Shattered Hearts and Scattered Petals
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: A collection of drabbles for various challenges and competitions. Will include Slash/Het/Femmeslash. Rated just in case for certain fics.
1. AlbusGellert

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 678**

* * *

 **Perhaps**

* * *

Albus thought that they'd work together to make a better world. He thought they be able to make a union between the magic folk and the muggles, with the magical's superior of course. He dreamt of a world in which they didn't have to hide.

A world in which Gellert would be by his side forever.

Except… except Ariana was dead and Gellert was nowhere to be found and Albus had been left alone with a bitter younger brother and not much else.

He didn't know what to think. Who'd cast the curse that had ended his little sister's life? Did it matter in the end? Ultimately Ari had been Albus' responsibility and she was dead and it was his fault.

Aberforth certainly believed so.

And Gellert… Gellert had fled like a coward.

…

Word of Grindelwalds deeds were reaching Albus and he hated what he was hearing. With each disaster and death, the expectation that Albus would step in heightened. He was the only person with the power to match the Dark Lord, and he was obliged to save them all.

Nobody knew just how much fear Albus had about seeing the man he'd loved as a boy.

Would he be able to turn his wand on Gellert, knowing that once upon a time, he had planned to be standing next to him as he carried out his plans.

Of course, Albus believed he could have tempered Gellert's violence, but would it have been a clean take over? No.

Albus wondered if he'd ever thought about the consequences of that when he was seventeen and so in love that world domination seemed like a good idea.

Standing in the mirror, his battle robes mocking him, he clenched his fingers around his wand.

"I am the one thing in life I can control," he told himself sternly. "I am not responsible for Gellert's mistakes. I can stop him."

Albus refused to wonder at his state of mind when he still called the Darkest Lord of the time by his first name.

…

"Albus… we both know you don't want to do this. It's not too late," Gellert taunted, his arms wide in welcome. "Join me."

"No," Albus replied quietly, though his voice carried easily over the barren land in which they'd met. "This… this is never what we planned, Gellert. This has gone on far too long."

"Because you were afraid to face me," Gellert replied, his tone smug. "You knew that if we met face to face, you wouldn't be able to kill me."

Albus widened his stance. "I'll fight you. Because it's the right thing to do. But I won't kill you, Gellert."

"Then how do you expect to win?"

"There are worse things than death."

"I… did not expect to see you here."

Albus stared at the gaunt face of the man he'd personally imprisoned in the tiny cell. "I… didn't intend to come."

"Then why are you here?"

"It's been a long time, Gellert."

Gellert nodded, his limp, grey hair falling around his cheeks. "You were right, you know?"

Albus chuckled, his old bones creaking slightly as he shifted. "I often am. To what do you refer?"

"There are worse things than death."

Albus nodded silently.

"If… if things had been different, we could have… it would have been…"

Albus smiled, a wistful expression on his face for a short moment. "I came to say goodbye."

Gellert frowned. "Are you planning to finally put me out of my… Albus, what happened to your hand?"

The sleeve had moved when he'd shifted, and Albus' blackened skin was on show.

"It is not you who will be leaving, Gellert, but me. I couldn't… I had to see you. If only for a moment."

"Albus -"

"Goodbye, Gellert. Perhaps… in another life. Perhaps."

…

Gellert shook his head as he stared into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort. He knew he'd meet his death within minutes, but he wouldn't betray Albus again.

If they were to get another life… he wanted a good start to that 'Perhaps.'

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 12. "I'll fight you."

Showtime - 11. Union

Amber's Attic - AlbusGellert

Hamilton Mania - A1, P7. Angst / Extra - 11. "I am the one thing in life I can control."


	2. DeanSeamus

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word count 414**

* * *

 **Perfect**

* * *

Dean leant into Seamus tiredly. He had a cut above his eye and his body ached all over, but they were alive. Seamus was in worse shape than him, and yet the other man (because they could no longer be called boys, they'd just fought a _war_ ) had his arm around Dean's shoulder and was running a comforting hand through his hair.

"They're going to reopen."

Dean blinked, looking up to see Neville standing in front of them, visible cuts and bruises everywhere Dean looked. "What?"

"Hogwarts. They're going to rebuild. They're going to reopen."

"How'd you know?" Seamus asked. Dean could hear a slur in his voice from tiredness.

"McGonagall said so," Neville shrugged, kicking his toe against the floor. "After this year… I don't know if I can come back. It's… it's too much to bear. After everything…"

"It'll take time to rebuild," Seamus murmured. "Take some time to heal. You might feel differently."

Neville nodded. He patted Seamus' shoulder and smiled at Dean tightly before he walked off. Dean watched him sit down beside Harry, easily pushing his way through the throng of admirers for the Man Who'd Won Again, or whatever title they were going to give him this time.

Dean smiled when he saw the grateful look on Harry's face at Neville's intrusion.

"I don't think I want to come back," Seamus said after a moment. "Nev's right. After last year… it's a lot."

Dean shrugged as well as he was able with Seamus' arm wrapped around him. "So we'll take off for a bit, ay? Go and explore somewhere warm and new, where… somewhere that doesn't have any memories, good or bad."

"What? Just… go?"

"A fresh start could be good, you know? Somewhere… somewhere new. Somewhere we don't have nightmares about."

"That'd cost a fortune, Dean."

"We could work," Dean replied quietly. "Muggles do it all the time. Backpacking holidays, working wherever they can pick up work in various towns. It's… like a right of passage."

Seamus pressed a kiss to Dean's temple. "That sounds perfect."

Dean nodded, closing his eyes briefly. As much as he wanted nothing more than sleep, he knew that he'd have nightmares and he didn't want any part of that right now.

"Then that's what we'll do. I… I missed you."

Seamus's arm tightened. "If you think I'm letting you out of my sight for anything in the foreseeable future, you can think again."

Dean snorted. He didn't argue.

It was perfect.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Showtime - 1. Making a fresh start.

Amber's Attic - DeanSeamus

Hamilton Mania - A1, P17. Post War / Extra - 22. Fortune

Canadian Craze - 2. "It's too much to bear."


	3. CharlieDraco

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 504**

* * *

 **His Family**

* * *

Charlie paced the hospital corridor, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he tried to hear any kind of sound from inside the room he was awaiting news from. His excitement and panic were waging war inside him, and he was struggling to keep himself contained in the small corridor.

Who knew becoming a parent would be this stressful? And the baby wasn't even here yet!

As he turned to make another pass, he found his path blocked.

"Come sit with me," Draco requested quietly, pulling Charlie to the chairs by his hand.

Charlie went willingly, running a hand through Draco's hair when the blonde man immediately curled up beside him, his head in Charlie's lap. He looked exhausted, and Charlie felt for him.

Draco had arrived at the hospital before Charlie had even gotten the call that the time had come. He'd been out shopping with Ginny when her waters broke.

"Do you think everything is okay?" Draco asked quietly, his tone filled with worry that he'd never be able to fully express.

"I think everything is wonderful," Charlie replied, his lips tilting into a smile. He concentrated on Draco for a while, setting a rhythmic pattern of strokes through his hair. He'd almost lulled him to sleep when the door to the hospital room opened and a smiling healer gestured to them that they could enter.

Charlie helped Draco up and the two of them entered the room. Ginny lay on the bed, looking tired but absolutely radiant.

"Come and meet your son," she murmured, holding onto a little bundle in a blue blanket.

"Son," Charlie breathed out.

They'd chosen not to find out the sex of the baby before the birth. That had been an argument that Charlie couldn't remember without wincing.

He accepted the bundle from Ginny, leaning over to press a kiss to his sister's cheek.

He peered down at the baby in his arms, and immediately, he couldn't imagine ever not having the child in his life. Draco stood at his shoulder, looking at the baby with such wonder that Charlie melted even further.

Draco looked up at Ginny and smiled, a magical smile that Charlie would never forget.

"Thank you," Draco breathed out, the awe evident in his tone. "Thank you, so much."

Ginny smiled at the two of them, tired but happy. "You're more than welcome," she replied. "What have you decided to call him?"

Draco glanced at Charlie for confirmation, given in the shape of a nod and a smile, and Draco's own smile widened.

"Scorpius Arthur Weasley-Malfoy."

Charlie kissed Draco and then bent his head to press a gentle kiss to Scorpius' head before he handed him off to his daddy. It had already been decided that Draco would be daddy and Charlie would be papa.

Charlie already couldn't wait to hear his son utter the titles.

Watching Draco hold Scorpius close, Charlie felt like his heart was going to give up from the burst of happiness overwhelming him.

 _That was his family._

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 9. Ginny Weasley

Showtime - 22. Becoming a parent

Amber's Attic - CharlieDraco

Hamilton Mania - A1, P13. Excitement / Extra - 2. Draco Malfoy


	4. CharlieDraco II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for the World Cup Challenge, Prompt - CharlieDraco**

 **Word Count - 714**

* * *

 **Best Birthday Ever**

* * *

Charlie woke up alone on his birthday.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to waking up alone on his birthday, he'd been living at the reserve almost full time for nine years, but this was the first year he'd had a boyfriend on his birthday and yet…

He was still waking up alone.

Sighing to himself, Charlie climbed out of bed, indulged himself in a full body stretch accompanied by a satisfied groan, and set himself to fulfilling his basic morning needs.

As the day progressed, his workmates wished him happy birthday with hand slaps to the back, a few high fives and fist bumps and even three cards. His family had also sent their own wishes, cards and presents over the last week.

But Charlie couldn't help but wonder why there was nothing from Draco. Not even a firecall before Charlie started work.

He didn't want to be _that_ boyfriend, but…

It kinda sucked.

…

Charlie walked home slowly. He'd had a really good day with the Dragons, and he couldn't help but wonder if Henrietta knew it was his birthday because she'd been extra affectionate. She hadn't even tried to burn him when he patched up a vicious scratch on her side from a fight with one of the male Horntails.

Still, he was feeling a little down, still not having heard anything from Draco. Around midday, he'd had a bit of a panic wondering if something had possibly happened to Draco, but Kyrie, one of the other trainers, talked him down.

Logically he knew that if Draco had been in or had an accident, St Mungo's would have informed him. He was listed as the first point of contact, the same as Draco was for him.

Rolling his eyes at his own neediness, Charlie spelled the door open and walked in.

And froze.

And blinked.

And blinked again.

"Hey."

Draco was there. There. In Romania. The living room was lit by fairy lights, and a few candles, and there was a table set up in the middle of the living room, complete with tablecloth and pretty plates and cutlery.

There was a strong smell of beef coming from the kitchen, and Charlie could do nothing but stare.

"Did I… do wrong?" Draco asked, the charming smile slowly changing into a worried frown. It was that expression that spurred Charlie back into movement and he shook his head forcefully.

"No, no of course not! I was just… surprised. The best kind of surprised, though, I promise." He closed the door and crossed the room to Draco, enveloping him in his arms. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Draco replied, nuzzling his face against Charlie's neck. "Happy birthday, babe."

Charlie drew back just far enough to press their lips together. When they separated, Charlie had a huge grin on his face.

"Best birthday ever."

"I haven't even given you your present yet," Draco replied, laughing.

"You're my present," Charlie refuted. "Anything else is just… extra. I'm so glad you're here."

"Then… maybe you'll like my present as much as I hoped. See," Draco pulled back a little. "I spoke to Diego, and he told me that Meryl is retiring and the reserve needs a new healer, and since I'm fully trained and have a little experience from spending some time here with you over the weekend, and you know, I've studied Dragons quite a lot, and -"

"Draco… are you moving here?" Charlie interrupted. "Like. To live?"

Draco nodded, his cheeks flushing. "You don't mind, right?"

"Mind?" Charlie asked, smiling so wide his cheeks actually hurt. He pulled Draco back into his arms, lifting him easily and spinning him around. "No baby, I don't mind. I don't mind at all."

…

"You know you have a problem now, right?" Charlie asked, his hand stroking lazily threw Draco's hair.

The two of them were cuddled up on the couch, their bellies full of the food Draco had almost burnt, and both riding the high of knowing that they were actually going to be able to live together for the first time.

"Huh?" Draco asked sleepily, close to dropping off.

"Uh huh," Charlie confirmed. "You're never going to top this birthday. Not ever."

Draco snorted. "If you think that, you really don't know me."


	5. RegulusRabastan

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 1001**

* * *

 **In Death, He's Okay**

* * *

He was eight the first time he learned about soulmates. His mother sat him down and lectured him for what seemed like forever. The only thing that Regulus really took from the lecture was that he was to remain pure until he met his soulmate, and if he didn't he'd be shunned by society.

His mother certainly had a way with words. She'd scared the life out of him, enough that he was terrified of physical contact even with his own family in case it sullied him.

…

He was twelve when one of his year mates brushed their hand along his arm and he freaked out.

It took the Matron over an hour to calm him, to ensure he understood that basic contact with another human would not make him impure. That as long as he didn't kiss another person, he would be ready for his soulmate.

She was the first person to tell Regulus that not everyone was with their soulmates; and that that was okay too.

…

He was fifteen when he wondered if Barty would be his soulmate. The two of them got on brilliantly, Barty knew Regulus better than anyone else and _he still liked him._

He brought Regulus ice cream to the library for long study sessions, and helped him with Charms because Regulus never could get the fiddly wand movements right, and he didn't shy away from him just because Regulus was a Black.

He wondered and he hoped.

…

He was sixteen when Sirius left. When his mother lost her mind and inflicted the worst beating Regulus had ever known, because for a moment, she couldn't see a difference between her sons.

He healed himself as best he could and hid away in the attic, cramming himself into the smallest nook he could find.

"You made me a promise," he whispered, eyes on the skylight, speaking to a brother who couldn't hear him.

A brother who'd promised to never let their mother hurt Regulus.

He was sixteen when he realised that promises could be broken.

…

He was eighteen when he got his soulmark. It settled on his wrist, just below where his Dark Mark lay. His parents were happy with the match, and that was important, Regulus knew. He was scared of what his mother could have done had she not approved.

Regulus' birthday was spent preparing himself for the first meeting with his soulmate. He's spent the day as a bundle of nerves.

When the moment came, he didn't know why he'd been so nervous.

He finally understood the concept of true loves kiss when their lips met for the first time.

Rabastan would take care of him.

…

Rabastan is loyal. And kind. And sweet. And patient.

Regulus learned all of these things in the first few weeks, because he didn't push Regulus to take his clothes off. It wasn't that Regulus didn't want him, he did. He really did.

But his mother's anger hadn't left Regulus untainted.

When he eventually told Rabastan, Rabastan had held his chin gently and told him, "Your scars are a part of you, you don't need to hide them. Not from me."

The words had left tears on Regulus' face and warmth in his heart.

...

"I don't want you to go," Regulus whined, making grabby hands for Rabastan to join him on the sofa.

Rabastan's lips tilted, and he bent down to pick Regulus up, settling on the sofa with Regulus in his lap.

"I'll be back before you know it," Rabastan promised, but Regulus knew about promises and how little they meant.

"What if you're not though?"

"Then I'll send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love. How's that?"

Regulus blinked and then laughed, snuggling his face against Rabastan's chest. "You're mad!"

"About you? Absolutely."

…

The changes were small, so small that Regulus didn't notice them until it was too late. Rabastan noticed, and didn't say anything. He thought it was just a phase that Regulus was going through.

It wasn't.

Regulus began to mistrust the Dark Lord.

The missions were getting more pointless, and the rewards they'd been promised didn't materialise.

Rabastan advised caution, but left Regulus to his feelings, unwilling to force him to behave.

Sometimes, Rabastan was too kind.

…

"It's still dark outside."

Regulus melted back into the arms that wrapped around him from behind. "I know."

"Then why are you out of bed and staring out into the darkness. There can't be anything interesting to see out there."

"Just thinking," Regulus hedged, turning his head to press a kiss to Rabastan's jaw.

"About?"

Regulus shrugged and turned. "Make me forget. Just for tonight."

No more words were spoken, but the aches and pains left over the morning after had Regulus biting his lip whenever he moved.

He'd never loved Rabastan more.

…

Rabastan presented Regulus with a silver cuff. It was simple but beautiful. Regulus wore it with pride, stroking the metal whenever he felt nervous or scared. That was getting more and more often.

Something bad was coming and Regulus was fearful that it would separate him from Rabastan.

If he clung to Rabastan longer and tighter, Rabastan didn't complain. He simply held Regulus for as long as he needed it.

And then the Dark Lord told Regulus he needed an elf.

…

Cold, slimy hand pulled at his limbs. He fought weakly against them, but he was no match for the sheer volume of them. He was pulled into the water, pulled _beneath_ the water.

Regulus had done what he came to do, he'd handed the horcrux off to Kreacher to dispose of. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to die, but he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe at all, and the darkness was beckoning him.

As his conscious mind left him, Regulus felt the hands change from cold and slimy to warm and welcoming. Rabastan's arms wrapped around him, and Regulus felt safe.

If that was death, Regulus was okay with it.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 4. Horcrux  
Disney - C3. Write about true loves kiss.  
Book Club - Tink: loyal, nook, biting  
Showtime - 44. (dialogue) "It's still dark outside."  
Sophie's Shelf - V8. Write a fic spanning 10 years.  
Emy's Emporium - Italy 1 - Ice Cream  
Angel's Arcade - Riku - silver, darkness, change, mistrust, "You made me a promise."  
Bex Biscuit Barrel - Jaffa Cake - Regulus / Anger / Soulmate!AU / "Your scars are a part of you, you don't need to hide them."  
Hamilton Mania Main - Act 2,17. (object) Dark Mark  
Hamilton Mania Extra - 16. "I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love."


	6. NevilleHarry

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 573**

* * *

 **Be Irresponsible (With Me)**

* * *

Neville threw the newspaper on the table with a groan, leaning back in his chair to look at Harry, who was watching him from the counter, sipping his coffee to block his smile.

They hadn't been up long, and watching Harry in the morning was one of Neville's favourite things to do.

" _How do you deal with this?"_ Neville asked, gesturing to the paper with a scowl.

"Talk less, smile more," Harry replied with a shrug. "I'd say it will die down but… well. I'll let you know when it dies down for me."

"Yeah, but you're Harry Potter. That's like being… I don't know. The Queen, for the muggles. I'm just Neville."

Harry summoned the paper with a wave of his hand, raising his eyebrow. "You're not just Neville anymore, mate. _You're Neville Longbottom, the young man who slayed The Dead One's Snake and helped to save us all!_ "

"Why do I come to you for sympathy?"

Harry shrugged. "Beats me. Nice picture of you wielding the Sword of Gryffindor, though. I kinda want to know who was wandering around the battle with a camera, though."

Neville watched as Harry's smile fell suddenly and felt an uncomfortable churning in his own stomach when he thought about Colin.

"They're probably taking pictures from pensieve memories," Neville soldiered on. Harry offered him a grateful smile. "They had photos of me with Luna and the Thestrals last week though, remember, and I have no idea where that one came from, since Luna would never give out memories."

"I should go see Luna myself," Harry murmured. "It feels like it's been an age."

"She's been spending a couple of days a week at Hogwarts, helping the rebuild and visiting with the animals in the forest. She even speaks with Aragog without being eaten."

Harry shuddered. "Giant spiders are a serious hard limit for me, I don't know how she's got the balls to go near them."

Neville chuckle. "She's got an affinity with animals, you know that. She's talking about going traveling in a couple of years."

"That'd be good," Harry replied, a wistful expression on his face. "Traveling is at the top of my to do list… you know, when I finish torturing myself with Healer training."

Neville fell silent, a pensive look overtaking him for a moment. "We could take a break? Just… leave. For a while."

Frowning, Harry shook his head. "We're both smack in the middle of apprenticeships, Nev."

"But… We could go if we had permission. So… we should ask for permission."

"You really just want to drop your life to go traveling with me?"

Neville stared at him for a long moment. "Harry… there's nowhere and nothing I wouldn't wanna go or do with you. I thought you knew that by now?"

Harry hopped off the counter and moved around the kitchen until he was leaning on the back of Neville's chair, making the other man twist awkwardly so he could still see him. Harry leant down to steal a chaste kiss.

"You know, I was always envious of people who had someone who would do anything for them. I just… sometimes I forget that I'm one of those people now."

Neville smiled, tugging Harry around the chair and into his lap. "Uh huh. You are one of those people. So… what do you say? Want to be irresponsible with me?"

Laughing, Harry nodded. "I really do. It sounds perfect."

…

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 27. Sword Of Gryffindor

Book Club - Moon Eye - Sympathy / Spider / Pensive

Showtime - 29. Newspaper

Bex's Biscuits - Hobnob - Wistful / Envy / Thestral

Hamilton Mania - A1. 19. Neville Longbottom / Extra - 17. "Talk less, smile more."


	7. BlaiseTheo

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 760**

* * *

 **All I Need**

* * *

Blaise glared at the bumbling man, rolling his eyes when the man grinned jovially at him.

"Blaise, son, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not your son," Blaise replied blandly. "And I'm not here for you. I'm here to see my mother."

"So formal," the man teased, gesturing Blaise towards the parlor. "You know, I don't think I've ever even heard you say the word 'mum'."

Blaise snorted. "Mum is a title to be earned. Mother, is what she is, since she birthed me."

That those words set the tone for the rest of the meeting came as no surprise to Blaise, and when he stormed from the manor in anger, fire blazing in his stomach, he really shouldn't have been disappointed in the woman who'd carried him for nine months.

She'd never given him any reason to believe that she would be supportive of him and his life choices, especially since he wasn't interested in _her_ plans for him.

Sadly, disappointed he still was.

…

Theo let himself in, frowning when he didn't hear Blaise call out a greeting. Blaise' jacket was hung up, and his shoes were by the door, so Theo knew his boyfriend was around somewhere. Wandering through the flat, Theo quickly found Blaise slumped on the sofa.

"Hey baby, you okay?" Theo asked, sitting beside Blaise and nudging his leg. The sad look in Blaise' eyes was enough to cause Theo's chest to burn, and he immediately tugged Blaise into his arms, hugging him tightly. "What's wrong?"

"I saw my mother today," Blaise whispered, nuzzling his face against Theo's neck, clutching at his shirt.

Theo immediately understood why Blaise had looked so sad, and he leant back into the cushions, pulling Blaise with him.

"Tell me what happened, baby."

"She made the accusation that you're with me for my money, and told me that I was stupid to believe that you could actually love me. She also told me that she didn't want to see me until I'd stopped playing the game of make believe with you, 'playing house and being ridiculous.'"

Theo fumed silently, stroking a gentle hand up Blaise' spine. "She's a miserable old bat who can't stand to see you happy, especially when you're not following the plans she wants you too."

Blaise nodded. "I know. And I know nothing she said was true, I know you love me. I just… she left raising me to nannies and house elves. Is it weird that I'd actually like some kind of bond with her?"

"It's not weird, baby. Just… unlikely, given who and what she is."

Blaise sighed. "Yeah, I guess. So… she's not coming to the civil ceremony anyway."

Theo hadn't wanted her there, vicious old cow that she was, but he kept his lips tightly pressed. No matter how many times she hurt Blaise, Blaise still craved some kind of connection with the woman who'd given birth to him.

Theo would only be hurting Blaise if he made horrible comments about her.

"Our wedding is going to be perfect, regardless of whether she turns up or not," Theo said carefully. "We'll be there, and baby, that's all we need. Our friends will all be there too."

"Can we stay in and cuddle tonight," Blaise asked, snuggling impossibly closer to Theo.

"Of course we can," Theo murmured into his hair. "We'll cook together and chill out, okay?"

"Cuddle first, cook later."

Theo chuckled, but settled in for a long cuddle. Blaise was always a bit clingier than normal after seeing his mother. Theo thought that seeing her brought back the loneliness of his childhood, and if there was one thing Theo never wanted Blaise to feel, it was lonely.

He was the most wonderful, loyal, interesting and intelligent person Theo knew, and he deserved the world.

"I brought home chocolate from that place in Muggle London you love," he murmured against Blaise' hair a few minutes later.

Blaise shifted against him so he could lean up a little and look at Theo.

"How did you know I'd need chocolate?"

Theo grinned. "You always need chocolate."

Blaise kissed him gently. "I love you. You're all I need to be happy. I think… I think I'm ready to give up trying with her."

Theo chased his lips for a second kiss, and then kissed the tip of his nose for good measure.

"You'll always have me, baby. So… I guess that means you'll always be happy."

Blaise smiled, a real smile that made the pain in Theo's chest ease off. "I guess it does."

…

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 25. Raised by someone other than parents.

Book Club - Slightly - Eye rolling / Game / Teasing

Showtime - 16. "I'm not your son."

Amber's Attic - BlaiseTheo

Angel's Arcade - Axel - Fire / Loyal / Blaise Zabini

Bex's Biscuits - Brandy Snaps - Accusation / Blaise Zabini / Lonely

Hamilton Mania - A2, 4. Chocolate / Extra Prompt - 20. "I'm not here for you."


	8. RegulusBarty

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom**

 **Word Count - 341**

* * *

 **Start to End**

* * *

It was love at first sight. It was an immediate connection, and a bond built upon shared books and family drama and an obsession with quidditch.

It was friendship which changed into romance, the transition never in doubt because it was them against the world and it had been since they'd met on the Hogwarts Express when they were eleven.

It was pranking, and dropping dungbombs and giggling behind hands as others took the blame.

It was the crunch of an apple that grated on ears, and an argument over chocolate, and a making up with hugs.

It was sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower at midnight to sit together and watch the stars and make out without people staring and whispering at them.

It was comfort and laughter and love. It was simple and pure and untainted.

 _That's how it started._

…

"I love you," Regulus murmured against his neck.

Barty smiled, running a hand through Regulus' hair. "I love you too."

...

It was crying and screaming and pain, trembling arms wrapped around a body that was wracked with sobs.

It was sad eyes and sad smiles and the words 'I love you always' traced on bare skin.

It was stolen moments for whispers of "you're okay, it's going to be okay," and, "I can't do this."

It was self sacrificing for the greater good, even when he didn't believe in it. He just wanted it to be over, to be safe.

It was more tears, these cried alone, grief tearing apart his soul as he lay on the bed he'd long shared with the man he loved.

It was a mantra of, "I miss him so much it hurts," when people asked how he was holding up, which wasn't often because of the company he kept. He preferred it that way.

It was a slowly dawning insanity, to protect himself from the pain. And it was not caring when the Dementor finally sucked his soul, because what did he need it for anymore anyway?

 _That's how it ended._

…

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 26. Self Sacrificing

Book Club - Reginald Smee - Regulus Black / Obsession / Crying

Showtime - 10. Love at first sight.

Amber's Attic - RegulusBarty

Bex's Biscuits - Digestive - Crunch / Sad / "I miss him so much it hurts."

Hamilton Mania - A2, 2. Dungbombs / Extra Prompt - 40. Book


	9. PiersDudley

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 483.**

 **Soldier!AU**

 _Warning for Character Death._

* * *

 **Open Your Eyes (Please)**

* * *

They were excited when they were shipped out, two young men, wanting to make a difference for their country. They dreamt of the glory of coming home, tired but triumphant. It was too late to back out when they realised that the reality of war was nothing like the games they'd played on their gamestations as kids.

In war, there was no pause button. They couldn't save their progress and take a break to get a cold drink and rest.

Reality was mud, and maps and fear. Reality was long hours spent in the hot sun. Reality was bullets, and wounds and death, and the real fear that they might not go home at all, never mind tired and triumphant.

Piers broke down first, crying in his bunk, stifling his sniffles in an attempt to keep his weakness to himself. Dudley crawled in beside him, ignoring the quiet jeering from a few of the others as he sought to comfort his best friend.

When Dudley came within inches of stepping on a landmine, Piers returned the favour, slipping arms around Dudley's trembling frame when Dudley had a nightmare that he hadn't had those inches to protect him.

They lost their innocence in those first weeks, and they began to understand why those that had been out there for a while startled when a toad hopped across the base, or when one of the younger soldiers whooped when news from home arrived.

They clung to one another, each of them scared of losing the other, each of them scared of losing themselves.

Dudley almost forgot what it was to laugh, until Piers kept him up half the night, cracking the cheesiest jokes he could remember. Piers almost forgot what a kind hand felt like on his skin until Dudley stroked his sweat soaked skin after a nightmare.

Together, they pulled through until a week before they could return home. Leave was on the horizon, and the joy the two of them felt at getting away, getting home to safety and comfort was all that was keeping them going.

Except there was a last mission to see through.

And it went wrong.

And Piers leant over Dudley, tears splashing down onto Dudley's face from Piers eyes because Dudley wasn't allowed to die, not like this.

"I love you," Piers whispered, squeezing Dudley's hand tightly. "You have to wake up, and be okay, so you can tell me that I didn't imagine that you love me too. _Please, Dudley, look at me_."

When Dudley's eyes fluttered and opened, Piers laughed a broken laugh, full of relief and pain.

"You didn't imagine it," Dudley managed to gasp. "I'm… I'm sorry, Piers. It… hurts. I can't."

His eyes closed.

"Stay with me," Piers begged. "Dudley, open your eyes."

…

When Piers went home, it was alone and carrying a medal, given posthumously, to hand over to Petunia Dursley.

…

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 13. Toad

Book Club - Peter Pan - Mud / Map / Excited

Showtime - Soldier!AU

Amber's Attic - DudleyPiers


	10. PiersDean

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 778**

* * *

 **Scripted In His Skin**

* * *

The words had appeared for as long as Piers could remember. He wasn't alone in it, of course, almost everyone on the planet received words from their soulmate, after all. Piers wasn't interested in everyone else, though.

Stubbing out his cigarette on the wall, he looked up at the moon and sighed. It had been three days since he'd received what was supposed to be a daily message, and worry churned in his stomach.

His soulmate was an odd one, he had to admit, often leaving Piers with nonsensical messages and words that had to be made up a few times. He'd been left shocked a few times too, when sentences about death, or battle, or fighting crossed his inner arm.

Who on earth was his soulmate anyway?

It was a question Piers had asked himself time and time again. Would they be short or tall? Would they be kind or mean, have freckles, be warm or cold? He had no clues but for the words on his arm, and with those not appearing…

Piers refused to think about what it _could_ mean. He had to keep faith that his soulmate was silent for reasons other than injury or worse.

He felt something wet hit his nose, and when he looked up at the sky, he realised that it was snowing.

Opening his front door to return to his room out of the way of his parents prying, Piers checked his inner arm once more, his hope dashed when he saw the skin plain and unmarked.

Maybe tomorrow would be the day.

…

Over that year, there were many consecutive days where Piers wouldn't get a comment etched into his skin. And then, out of nowhere, there would be words again, and Piers felt like he could breathe freely again for a little while, until the blank skin filled him with worry once more.

Whatever his soulmate was going through, Piers wished he could help.

 _We're going to make it out of this._

 _I miss Hogwarts too._

 _Harry will kill him. I know it._

The sentences left Piers filled with an uncertainty like he'd never known. Make it out of what? What was a Hogwarts, and why was his soulmate so positive that this 'Harry' was going to kill someone?

Piers didn't know what to think about any of it, but no matter the words, he couldn't ever be disappointed when he saw there were fresh ones marked on his arm.

…

By the time Piers was nineteen, his soulmates words were back to coming daily, often normal sentences like, _do you want a coffee?_

Piers was hopeful that whatever his soulmate had been through, he was okay now. Walking through the local dog park to the gym he worked in, Piers was so lost in thought that he didn't see the dog jumping at him until it was too late.

"Whiskey! I'm so sorry, mate. He doesn't normally do that… he doesn't tend to like people."

Pier looked up to meet the most delicious shade of brown eyes he'd ever seen. He shook himself, taking the offered hand to help him back to his feet.

"Don't worry about it," Piers assured the man. "He's a good looking dog."

He bent to stroke the fur of the bouncy labrador a few times before he smiled at the man and walked on.

That night, he was watching television when he noticed the black on his arm. Looking down at the words, he read them once, twice, a third time before he sat upright in his seat, staring at his arm.

He'd heard those words. Today.

 _Whiskey! I'm so sorry, mate. He doesn't normally do that… he doesn't tend to like people._

The brown eyed guy from the dog park appeared in Piers' mind. He twitched in his seat, wanting to run down to the park now, even though it would be useless. He'd… he'd go tomorrow, and as many days as it took to run into the guy again.

Groaning, Piers ran a hand through his hair as he remembered that the first time he'd met his soulmate, he'd been sprawled out on the floor. Not the best way to impress him, Piers thought.

Still…

He'd finally… he'd finally met his soulmate.

Nothing else really mattered.

…

"Hi."

Piers smiled, holding his hand out. "Hi. I'm Piers."

"Dean," the brown eyed man replied, the widest smile on his face. "And this is Whiskey," he added, gesturing to the labrador at his feet.

Piers grinned. "I remember. So… uh. What's a Hogwarts?"

Dean laughed long and loud, and Piers was pretty sure it was the finest sound he'd ever heard.

* * *

 **Written for;**

 **Romance Awareness, Day 2** \- A sentence your soulmate said in the day appears on your skin daily.

 **Auction** \- Hopeful

 **Cookies Crafty Corner** \- Cast On - Characters meeting for the first time.

 **Showtime** \- 11. Faith

 **Buttons** \- O4. Cigarette / W3. Freckles

 **Chocolate Truffle Craze;** Sweet - Write Fluff

 **Sophie's Tearoom** \- Triple Decker Steak Sandwich - Impress


	11. LuciusNarcissa

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for; Hogwarts Assignment 3; Gardening Task 2 :** Write about someone losing hope.

 **Other Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Beta'd** by my Salt-Pot

 **Word Count** \- 1159

* * *

 **A Doused Flame**

* * *

She can still remember the champagne coloured robes she wore the first time she met Lucius outside of school. She was 15, and she'd already known him to be handsome, but that was the night she leaned how charming he could be.

He twirled her around the dancefloor, his eyes twinkling, his smile wide, and he made her feel like a princess.

That had been the moment that she knew she'd met her Prince Charming. That had been the moment she thought she'd started along the path to her 'Happily Ever After.'

He'd been bold in his advances following that, making it clear that he was willing to do whatever was necessary to have her close, to have her hand and her heart for his own. She'd gladly accepted.

Looking back, those first years of marriage were the happiest time of Narcissa's life. Lucius was a loving husband; he adored her and he made her feel special.

As though he was blessed to have her by his side.

Narcissa hadn't realised, the night he come home chattering, nervous yet excited, about The Dark Lord. Lucius believed in this man, this Lord, and Narcissa wished to support her husband, and so she held her silence.

When Lucius returned with an ugly tattoo marring his once pale, perfect forearm, she held her silence.

When he cried into her shoulder, the guilt of his first torture eating him up from the inside, she held her silence.

Now she wonders if, all those years ago, had she not held her silence, they would not be in such a mess now.

…

" _Narcissa?"_

 _She could hear him calling for her, but she ignored him, continuing her gentle rocking in the nursery chair, Draco held in her arms._

 _Lucius burst into the nursery a few moments later, his eyes crazed, his hair messy and looking rather unkempt. She glared at him when he opened his mouth, her eyes warning retribution if he woke their son with his dramatics._

 _This was supposed to be a happy time in their lives, and yet, as Lucius sunk further and further into the Dark Lord's web, Narcissa had begun losing hope that life would ever return to normality._

 _Placing Draco carefully into his crib, Narcissa pressed a kiss to his head and gestured Lucius to lead her from the nursery._

" _What on earth is the matter with you?" she demanded. "And why do you look so…"_

" _The Dark Lord… he…"_

" _What, Lucius? The Dark Lord what?"_

" _He's gone."_

…

After that evening in the nursery, when Lucius had given her the news, Narcissa wondered if things would return to the way she had imagined them. She wondered if this would derail their paths back to the one she'd hoped for.

An impossible dream, as Lucius was almost immediately arrested under the suspicion that he'd been involved with The Dark Lord.

...

" _Cleared," Lucius declared, stepping through the doors to the entrance hall of the Manor. "Of all charges."_

" _Oh, thank Merlin," Narcissa gasped quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist as his settled around her, rubbing her back comfortingly._

 _He nuzzled his face against her neck, and she could feel him inhaling deeply._

" _I owe you many apologies, my dear Narcissa," he murmured against her skin. "I can only hope you'll allow me the chance to make my mistakes up to you. I'll buy you the finest jewels." His lips caressed her cheek as he looked up to meet her. "Take you on the most relaxing vacations. I'll shower you with all the love you deserve."_

 _She pressed her lips to his. "Make it up to me by allowing our lives to return to how they were supposed to be," she whispered, her lips brushing his with the movement. "Make it up to me by being happy with me."_

…

Life had returned to an echo of the years before the Dark Lord. Lucius was once more the attentive, loving husband she remembered. And yet, there was something… something false about it.

Something fake.

It was as though the Dark Lord had left something behind in Lucius, something sinister and dark, something that made his charm seem more sinister, that made the twinkle in his eyes foreboding.

Narcissa had hope that with time, it would stop. It would return to normal. _Lucius_ would return to normal.

…

" _I… Narcissa?"_

 _She glanced up from her book, only to find Lucius staring with something akin to horror at his forearm._

" _It's burning," Lucius gasped. "He's… he's really back. He's… calling."_

 _Heart sinking, Narcissa closed her book and left it on the arm of his chair before crossing the room. He stood up to meet her, and she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek._

" _You should go. Keeping him waiting is not a good idea."_

 _Narcissa was left alone in the lounge, staring at the fireplace._

 _She didn't even know if her husband would return home. The Dark Lord was not known for his mercy._

…

The second war, though held more privately, was more vicious than the first in Narcissa's eyes. It was strategy, and violent, and cold.

It only got worse when Lucius was arrested. Narcissa was left alone in the manor, missing him and cursing him in equal measure for getting them into the situation they were in.

The next time she saw him, her hope was doused to the smallest of flames, because this was not her husband, and she had no idea how to fix him. That Bellatrix came with him, and the Dark Lord not long behind, did little to help that fire burn brighter.

Narcissa thought that perhaps, this time, the deviation from the path of 'Happily Ever After' was too much to overcome.

…

 _There were footsteps coming towards them._

" _You stole me life from me."_

 _Her words were quiet, but that didn't stop him from flinching as though they had impacted him physically._

" _You gave me the best thing. You gave me Draco, but the rest… you stole my youth, my heart, my chance at happiness."_

 _The footsteps were getting closer, and there was no pretending that they didn't belong to who Narcissa knew them to be._

 _As the Auror's entered the room._

 _A tear slid down Lucius' gaunt face as he was cuffed, not bothering to fight what would be just another losing battle._

" _You stole my hope from me," Narcissa added. She crossed the room, and, eyeing the Auror closest carefully, Narcissa leant in and kissed Lucius one last time. "I love you. But I'll always hate you for that."_

...

Hope lost, Narcissa could only stare out of the bedroom window onto the lonely grounds of Malfoy Manor.

Draco had his own family now. Lucius was in Azkaban, with no chance of release. Narcissa was alone with her pain.

Her 'Happily Ever After' in tatters, she would do no more but wait for the relieving hand of death to beckon her.

* * *

 **Also written for;**

Disney; King Louie - Write about someone who wants the impossible.

Bex's Basement; The Twits - Write about a fraught marriage.


	12. BlaiseTheo II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Word Count** \- 420

* * *

 **For The Love Of Chocolate**

* * *

"We've been in here for forty five minutes, you have got to be nearly done," Blaise whined, looking at Theo with pitiful eyes.

He was starving and all he really wanted to do was head to the Three Broomsticks, and fill his face with homemade steak and ale pie, washed down with a bottle of Butterbeer.

Of course, he should have known that the moment Theo got inside Honeydukes that it would be a lost cause.

One day, he'd learn to make Honeydukes the last stop on a Hogsmeade trip. He rolled his eyes at himself, because as if Theo would ever let that happen.

"I need to pick out the perfect chocolate; and it has to be enough to _last_. Do you know how long it is until the next Hogsmeade visit?"

Blaise opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by the glaring Theo. "Too long. That's how long. And you know how I get if I don't get enough chocolate."

Blasie nodded because he did know what Theo was like when he didn't have enough chocolate. It wasn't a pretty sight to see.

It was also dangerous to anyone who crossed paths with Theo because the man turned into a _menace._

"So, do you want me to leave without enough, and risk what you know will happen, or do you want to wait patiently?"

Blaise sighed, waving his hand at Theo to carry on his browsing. Last time they'd been here, they'd had exactly the same conversation, only Blaise had suggested that he could just go and wait for Theo at the pub.

That…. Had not been a fun experience. He'd had a sulky boyfriend for three days after. There was no way was he stupid enough to make that suggestion again.

Settling himself in for the wait, Blaise watched his boyfriend making his selections with the utmost care and precision.

He'd never seen anyone take chocolate so serious, and his lips tilted up in a smile almost involuntarily.

Even though he was starving, watching Theo like this could never get old.

Eventually, Theo made his way to the cashier and paid for his life force, smiling sweetly at Blaise as they left the shop.

Slipping his hand into the bag, he pulled out a tube. "I got you something."

"Chocolate spread? What am I going to do with chocolate spread, Babe, I don't _eat_ chocolate."

"No, but I do. And I was thinking that this would taste even better if I ate it off _you_."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Sewing 101; Step 2 - Style - Honeydukes / Direction - Glaring / Skill - No Gryffindors.

Back To School - 24. Visiting Hogsmeade


	13. GeorgeSeamus

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Hogwarts Assignment** \- _Defense, Task 1 - Someone with a bad cold._

 **Other Challenges listened at the bottom.**

Word Count - 1689

 _Beta'd by the lovely Ace Panda :D_

* * *

 **Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake**

* * *

Seamus let himself into the flat, tossing his keys on the side table and stripping his outer robe, hanging it up. He was so ready for his night off, it had been extremely busy at the hospital lately. An outbreak of the flu had hit the wizarding world, and the healers were run off their feet.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his legs dangling over the arm of the chair as he lounged with his sketchbook in his lap. It was a normal sight to come home to.

Seamus grunted a greeting, flopping down onto the sofa. Dean looked up, raising his eyebrow. "You look rough."

"Tired," Seamus muttered. "Ready for bed, I just wanna sleep for a week."

Dean snorted. "Did you see George today?"

Seamus frowned. "No, why?"

"The shop was closed when I called down to the Alley at lunch. Just wondered if he was okay is all."

Seamus blinked. "Why was it closed?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

Sighing, Seamus forced himself to sit up. "I guess I should go see, huh?"

"Seamus…" Dean shook his head. "I know that you two are close but… you look like you're coming down with something, and I'm sure George is fine. He doesn't need a babysitter."

"I know that," Seamus growled. "I just… I worry about him. He's been doing loads better lately, I just want to make sure that's… still a thing."

Dean shrugged. "I can't stop you from going. Just… try not to take too long. You need to sleep and relax for a little while."

"I'll be fine," Seamus murmured, pushing himself to his feet and moving back towards the door. He knew he probably shouldn't be Apparating while he was so tired, but he also had a deep protective need to check on George.

…

"You… look appalling," George commented when he opened the door. He stood aside so Seamus could stumble into the flat, his hand automatically moving to steady the younger man when he tilted dangerously to the left.

"Why wasn't the shop open?" Seamus asked, blinking blearily at George. The Apparition had sapped what little strength he had, and he just wanted to _sleep._

George blinked. "I had a bit of an… incident with a potion in the backroom and it needed cleaning. I'll be open again in no time. It was just an… unexpected explosion."

"You okay?"

"Better than you," George muttered, leading Seamus to the couch and settling him down, fluffing a couple of cushions to prop him up. "What happened to you?"

Seamus shook his head. "Just tired. M'fine."

"Yeah, of course you are. Have you got that flu that's going around?"

"Nope. Just… maybe a little cold?"

"Uh huh," George replied doubtfully, covering Seamus with a crimson blanket. Seamus' cheeks were flushed a pale pink, but he was starting to shiver violently.

"I have… potions. Somewhere. Lemme check the medicine cupboard."

He left Seamus on the sofa, returning within minutes with a flu potion and a pain potion.

"Here, drink these," he said, helpfully tilting Seamus' head when he struggled to hold it up long enough to drink.

"What… what potion was that?" Seamus asked, pulling back with a frown, a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Standard flu potion," George replied with a shrug. "It's from the medical box you supplied me with."

"Uh…" Seamus groaned. "You should probably help me home. I don't always have a great reaction to that potion, and Dean knows how to not panic when I start hallucinating."

George snorted. "You think I'm gonna send you home while you're ill and hallucinating? You daft? Sounds like the best entertainment ever!"

Seamus frowned. "You're a little bit twisted, aren't you?"

"You love me for it," George replied with a cheeky grin. Seamus groaned again but didn't deny the words. Instead, he tried to curl up into an even tighter ball, clutching at the blanket and trying to hug one of the cushions in one movement.

"All you need is," George cut himself off, conjuring a teddy bear, which he replaced the cushion with. "Okay, you're officially the most adorable sight I've ever seen."

"I'm a mess," Seamus whispered, his eyes closing. "Not adorable."

George smiled slightly, leaning over to check Seamus' temperature. "We'll have to agree to disagree on that, my friend."

Seamus didn't answer. He was already asleep.

…

"You heard that, right?" Seamus asked, looking intently at the fireplace. George blinked. He hadn't even realised that Seamus had woken up.

After Seamus had fallen asleep, George had sent a Patronus off to Dean, explaining the situation and asking about the hallucinations. Dean's Patronus had come back, offering an explanation interspersed with chuckles, that Seamus would be harmless but clingy and that George probably shouldn't leave him alone.

"Heard what?" he asked, sitting up a bit further in the chair he'd been dozing in.

"There's a koala trying to get through the fireplace," Seamus whispered. "Can't you hear it?"

"Erm. No. I'm sure the koala is fine though," George replied after a long pause. He bit his lip when Seamus looked at him, a sweet, hopeful look on his face.

"Really?"

"Uh huh. I'm sure it's grand."

Seamus nodded, settling back down. He was blinking sleepily at George. "You have a chameleon sitting on your shoulder."

"It's called Bob," George replied seriously. "He's fine too."

"He's pretty," Seamus replied, his eyes falling shut once more.

George chuckled quietly.

…

The next time Seamus woke up, it was with tears streaming down his face. "The pizza didn't want me to eat it," he sobbed, reaching for George. "I didn't know, I swear."

George moved to the sofa, wrapping Seamus in a tight hug. "I'm sure it knew you didn't mean any harm," he comforted, inwardly howling with laughter. "Don't worry about it, baby."

Seamus snuggled against him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"I really really love you," Seamus whispered, nuzzling against him. "I have for ages and ages, but I can't keep you."

"Why can't you keep me?" George asked.

"Cause you're only my friend. Like Dean. But I love you like… like… like fat kids love cake!"

George spluttered out a laugh. "You should go back to sleep, Shay, you need to rest."

"But…"

"We'll talk about the fat kids and their cake when you're better, okay?"

"Kay. Don't leave," Seamus murmured, leaning more of his weight against George.

George looked at the sofa and thought about the damage it would do to his back. He shook his head. Nope. That wasn't a thing.

Lifting Seamus in his arms, which was much easier than he expected, and he made a mental note to talk to Seamus about eating food regularly as he carried him into the bedroom.

"What..?"

"It's fine, Shay. I'm still here," George murmured as he gently settled Seamus on the bed. "Just moving locations for the health of my back, okay?"

"Hmm, kay."

George change rapidly into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. It didn't take long for Seamus to be splayed over him.

If George was asked, he would have denied how comfortable he was. He wasn't supposed to be taking pleasure out of Seamus being ill.

But… his thoughts ran over Seamus' words, and he hugged the other man tighter. Perhaps this wouldn't just be a one time thing.

"M'sorry, George," Seamus whispered. "You shouldn't have to deal with me like this."

"Hush," George chided gently. "You're not a burden, not ever. In any way."

"But -"

"Nope. Now, for the last time, go to sleep, Shay! You'll feel better in the morning."

…

"Bleh," Seamus complained as he woke up slowly.

George shifted underneath him, blinking his eyes open. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"Like someone run me down with a truck. But also of sound mind, so there's that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You were very… sweet."

Seamus groaned, rolling over onto his back beside George. George sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and stretched out his back. He got up, leaving the room, but returned quickly with a glass of water for Seamus and a coffee for himself.

"Why do you get coffee and I get water?" Seamus complained, glaring at the mug in George's hands.

"Would you give me coffee if I was sick?"

"Well no but -"

George stared at Seamus deadpan, and the younger man sighed. "Fine."

"Seems like the potion got rid of the worst of the symptoms," George said, sitting down on the bed.

"Uh huh. How's Bob?" Seamus asked, raising his eyebrow at George. He sipped the water, grinning when George looked confused. "Your chameleon."

"You remember everything you said?"

Seamus nodded, his lips tilting up. "Uh huh. And I still love you like a fat kid loves cake."

…

"I still don't understand how, since I last saw you _two weeks ago_ , you two have gone from being best friends to being… Sickly in love," Ron complained.

They were in the Leaky Cauldron, a large group of them, as they did at least once a month. If the war had taught them anything, it was that friendships and bonds were important.

"It just happened," Seamus shrugged, leaning back against George in the booth.

"All it took was you almost dying from flu," George said cheerfully, nuzzling his face against Seamus' hair.

"I didn't have flu," Seamus argued, though he didn't try and move from George's arms. "It was just a bad cold!"

…

Seamus let himself into George's flat after a long day at the hospital. He found George lying prone on the sofa, hugging a pillow and dithering under a multitude of blankets.

"I've been waiting all day! What took you so long?" George moaned when he caught sight of Seamus, making grabby hands at him.

"What's wrong?" Seamus asked, hugging George and checking his temperature in one movement.

"I have a cold," George moaned.

"You have the flu," Seamus corrected, wincing at the heat coming off of George.

"Nuh uh!" George disagreed, burying his face against Seamus' chest. "S'just a bad cold."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 7. Trio Era

Disney: D5. "Not, for the last time, go to sleep."

Trope; Sharing a bed; 4. "I've been waiting all day. What took you so long?"

Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair - 14. "You're a little bit twisted."

Book Club - Angela - Normal / Protective / Pizza

Showtime - 8. Denied

Buttons - O3. Teddy Bear / D1. "You heard that, right?"

Emy's Emporium - 7. Chameleon

Angel's Arcade - 4. Amy Rose - Pale pink / Sweet / Hugging

Lo's Lowdown - C9. Mai. Deadpan

Bex's Basement - 7. A potion doing something unexpected.

Sewing 101, Step 1 - Fabric - 6. Blanket / Pattern - 4. Pain / Colour - 6. Crimson.

Feline Fair - 18. Siamese - Someone being helpful

Slash September - GeorgeSeamus

Auction - Cushion.


	14. RegulusBarty II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for;** Hogwarts Assignment - Bioscience, EC - Zombie Apocalypse!AU

 **Other Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 _Beta'd by Ace Panda_

 **Word Count** \- 2853

 **Warning** for Character Death and... blood? And things. Idk, is Zombies.

* * *

 **The Lucky One (Or So He's Told)**

* * *

" _It's the end of the world as we know it."_

Regulus had heard those words so many times over the last week, they were practically on loop in his mind. There was talk of the rapture, of infections and spreading and bites, but what it all boiled down to was watching the people he loved die.

And then come back to life.

What it boiled down to, was being forced to kill them again, to make them stay down, because if he didn't, it would be the end of him.

The… things, because under absolutely no circumstances was Regulus going to call them zombies, were susceptible to blows to the head and fire. It was a shame that one of the sure ways to kill them was something that Regulus feared.

Regulus had attempted to stab Mr Kreacher, the family butler, with a kitchen knife and almost gotten himself bitten in the process.

Only knocking him back into the lit fireplace by accident had saved Regulus' life. The guilt Regulus had felt since then had been ever present, only growing with every life he took to save his own.

There was a camp, a safe haven, set on the coast, that Regulus was aiming for. He'd tried to get in touch with Sirius, his older brother, to no avail, and he could only hope that he'd find him there. Regardless that they weren't talking, Regulus needed his brother.

Their parents were… god only knew where. Regulus had no idea. They'd been on the continent, his mother having joined his father for a business trip. Regulus didn't know if they'd been…

He just didn't know. The only thing he knew was that he was alone. And he hated it.

…

He tried to keep to the countryside as much as possible, but it wasn't always feasible. He needed supplies, food and water and weapons, and he couldn't always get them from the abandoned barn houses he crossed.

It was in a small town that he found Barty. Cowering behind a large dustbin, he looked terrified, and though Regulus cursed himself, he couldn't just leave him there.

"Come with me," he hissed, keeping his eyes on the small cluster of… things, a little ways down the street. Regulus had learned that while their eyesight was shockingly bad, they seemed to have superpowered hearing and smell.

His bag heavy on his back, Regulus almost managed to get them to the town's edge before they ran into trouble. He slipped down a curb, landing with a clatter against a steel bin, which fell noisily beside him.

"Run," he ordered Barty, picking up a loose brick and aiming it at one of the things heading their way. It hit its mark, and the thing fell to the ground, twitching but not getting back up again.

"I'm not leaving you," Barty replied, his hands trembling as he searched around for something to use as a weapon. "Do you have matches? We need fire, they die with fire."

Regulus shook his head, pulling a frying pan from his bag. He'd found it in the last town he'd been in, and taken it just in case. Thanking his forethought, he murmured again," You need to run. I'll catch up."

Barty just shook his head. Regulus almost admired the stubbornness. It wasn't often he met a match for his own.

Looking back at the things, closer now, stumbling towards them, Regulus decided that a tactical retreat was probably going to be the only safety from here. Especially since the only weapon they had between them was a frying pan.

Gripping hold of Barty's wrist, he pulled himself up and set off running, pulling the other man with him, not giving him a chance to complain. The things were slow, slower than Regulus anyway.

"We need to find something to muddy the scent trail," he muttered. "Otherwise, it doesn't matter how far we go, they'll just keep following."

"There's a pond," Barty suggested. "On the edge of the town, just before we hit the country lanes. The water should stop them from being able to follow."

Regulus nodded silently, not relishing the thought of going through a pond, but knowing they had little other options.

...

The water in the pond was disgusting, and Regulus grimaced with every step he took. His boots squelched against the bottom. It's only redeeming feature was that it was relatively small. Climbing out, Regulus jumped when a frog hopped across the ground in front of him.

Barty chuckled. Regulus levelled a glare at him, but it only made Barty laugh louder.

"Come on," Regulus huffed. "We need to get the hell away from here and set up camp somewhere.

The two walked for miles. Regulus could only be thankful that Barty was physically fit and able to keep up. When they stopped in a clearing, they were both tired and hungry, but they were safe, or as safe as they could be, and that was all that mattered.

"Should we… make a fire?" Barty asked. It was sundown, and it would soon be completely dark. Regulus felt a shiver, but shrugged, not wanting to show any weakness.

"You do that, and I'll build us somewhere to sleep," he muttered, wandering away. He had a sleeping bag which he supposed would have to do them both. They could lie on it if he opened it up. It was better than lying on the woodland floor, and the nights were still warm enough that covers weren't completely necessary.

It took them a little over an hour to set themselves up, and when Regulus pulled crisps and energy bars from the bottom of his bag, Barty looked at him like he'd just lassoed the moon.

"Thanks," he murmured, when Regulus split his hoard.

"We're going to need more tomorrow," Regulus warned as he handed over a bottle of water. "Which means braving another town."

Barty swallowed but nodded. "I… thanks. For not leaving me back there. I…"

"Why were you by yourself?"

"I was with some others but," Barty shook his head. "They decided I was a weak link, said they didn't want to deal with me anymore. I guess I was slowing them down."

Regulus felt himself growing angry. He hadn't even know this man for a full day, and yet he was furious that people thought he was weak.

"They're idiots," Regulus announced. "You kept up with me just fine."

The grateful smile on Barty's face warmed Regulus far more than the fire did.

…

They got lucky the following day. Regulus found a shop on the outskirts of town that hadn't been completely raided, and he filled his rucksack up with ready-to-eat foods and bottles of water. He knew they had to be getting closer to the camp, a few more days at most, and he was so ready to be able to relax.

"What's your favourite colour?" Barty asked out of the blue as they walked.

Regulus looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and smiled slightly. "Navy. You?"

"Green, I think," Barty replied.

"You think?"

"All this walking through the green countryside is making me rethink," Barty replied with a grin.

Regulus chuckled, then asked, "Favourite food?"

"Pizza."

"That was fast."

Barty shrugged. "Who doesn't like pizza?"

"Depends on the toppings. If you're one of those heathens that put pineapple on a pizza, I'm leaving you here."

Barty wrinkled his nose and Regulus couldn't help but think he looked adorable. "Nah, I'm more for pepperoni."

Regulus nodded approvingly. They continued asking random questions like that until the sun started setting in the sky once more.

After setting up camp with the same proficiency as the night before, Regulus leant himself back against a fallen log. "A couple more days, and we should be safe."

Barty nodded. "It'll be good to not have to worry about every rustle… especially when we're in woods where there's nothing but rustling."

Regulus snorted. "You're not wrong." Tilting his head back, he looked up at the stars. "Hey look, you can see Cygnus." He pointed out the constellation. Barty shuffled closer to look.

"How can you tell?"

"My family are _big_ on stars," Regulus explained. "That's how I got my name. How we all got our names. My older brother is called Sirius, my father is called Orion."

Barty nodded. "At least your name has meaning, right? I was named after my father, destined to fail to live up to his name."

Barty's tone was bitter, and Regulus shifted to squeeze his hand in silent support..

"I know a thing or two about shitty families," Regulus admitted after a long moment. "I was forced to kill the only person who ever truly cared about me. The family butler, Mr Kreacher. He… he was turned. I didn't…"

Barty swallowed hard. "I killed my father."

They fell into silence. When they curled up together on top of the open sleeping bag, Regulus didn't say anything when Barty laid closer than he had the night before.

...

"Son of a bitch, there's more of them," Regulus shouted, picking up the closest thing to him, which happened to be a broken tree branch. He clobbered the thing in the head, twisting to do the same to another. He couldn't keep track of Barty, and his panic worsened with every second that passed without him in his line of sight.

Then there was light, and Barty was holding a tree branch, lit with fire at one end, brandishing it at the things. Regulus jumped out of the way, panting heavily as Barty fought off the things.

"Jesus Christ," Regulus bit out, when the last of them was on the floor. Barty was struggling to breathe when he dropped the branch, and Regulus silently handed him a bottle of water.

"I hate to rush you, but we need to keep moving."

Barty nodded, taking a long gulp of water. "I know. But first," he fastened the lid back on and looked up to meet Regulus' eyes. With one long step, he stood in front of Regulus and wrapped a hand around his neck, pulling him closer to press their lips together. When he pulled back, he said, "That was entirely too close for comfort."

Regulus didn't know what to say so he just nodded. Barty's cheeks flushed.

"I… erm…"

"It's fine," Regulus assured him.

"I've wanted to do that since about half an hour after I met you."

"Yeah?"

Barty nodded. "Yeah. I… I'd like to do it again…"

With a wide smile, Regulus wrapped an arm around Barty's shoulders. "Maybe when we're not surrounded by smoking things, yeah?"

"Still sticking with calling them 'things,' huh?"

Regulus snorted as the two started walking. "I refuse to use the word 'zombie' in a serious manner."

"But… that's what they are."

"Nope. Things. That's what they are. We are not in some stupid Hollywood movie, dammit."

Laughing, Barty shrugged. "If you insist."

"I do insist. If this were Hollywood, you'd be a female and I kinda like you exactly as you are."

...

"Here, there's a barn," Regulus said, pointing to a barn in the distance. "Stay behind me until we know if it's safe."

Regulus checked around the barn gingerly before he pushed open the doors. It was empty inside, and Regulus smiled with relief. It would be nice to have real shelter for a change.

The two ate in companionable silence before they lay down on the sleeping bag, much comfier over a pile of hay than it usually was on the hard ground. Barty didn't hesitate to slot himself against Regulus, with his head on his chest and his arm over his waist.

Regulus wrapped his arms around Barty in turn, pressing a kiss to Barty's head.

Regulus woke suddenly. It took him a moment to realise what had woken him up, but a shuffling footstep and hard breathing had him sitting up, staring around.

A thing was in the barn, nearing them with alarming speed, and Barty was closest.

"Wake up," Regulus shouted, jumping over Barty and punching the thing in the head, making it stumble back a little. He carried on, anything to keep the thing away, but he heard a squeak and had to turn to make sure Barty was okay.

It was a mistake and he knew it. Teeth sank into his arm before he could rip away from the grip. A gunshot sounded and the thing fell to the floor. Regulus tugged his sleeve down and turned to find Barty holding a shotgun in shaking hands.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Regulus comforted, approaching slowly and pulling away the gun. "You okay?"

Barty nodded but fell against Regulus' side. Regulus hugged him tight, his eyes scanning the barn. When he didn't see anything else, he leant the gun against the wall.

"Let's head out," he suggested. "Neither of us is going to get any more rest."

Barty nodded.

"You pack up our things, I'm going to see if there are any more guns around here. It'd be useful if there's a handgun, just in case."

…

Regulus cursed himself silently as the two walked. He noticed that Barty was looking at him worriedly, but he'd pulled the sleeve of his sweater down before he could see the bite mark.

How could he have been so careless? He was an idiot. Barty… Regulus sighed, drawing another worried look. At least they were nearing the safe camp. Barty… he'd be safe. He'd be looked after there, and he wouldn't have to worry about the things anymore.

He wouldn't be alone.

Regulus had many regrets, but that would never be one of them.

He stumbled. He was finding it more difficult to breathe, and his arm was throbbing painfully, the feeling moving up towards his shoulder.

Letting himself fall, he landed hard on his knees, his rucksack falling into the leaves with a crunch beside him.

"Reg?"

Barty sat beside him, putting a steadying hand on the back of his shoulder. "You okay?"

Regulus shook his head. "Really not," he groaned. "But… I got you this far. The camp… it's only a few miles away, okay? You can get there. It's all countryside, you'll be safe."

"Reg… what? I don't…"

Regulus pulled his sleeve back, revealing the mangled skin of his arm. It was inflamed, purple around the edges.

Barty stared in horror at the bite mark. "You… you got that for me," he whispered. "Because I wasn't fast enough."

Regulus shook his head tiredly. "I got it because I couldn't let you die. You… you were made for more than mindless hunting, Barty. You were made to be more than one of those things."

"So were you," Barty replied, helping Regulus to lay down, his head in Barty's lap. Barty stroked a hand through the brown strands. "You… I don't want you to die."

"I'm not afraid of dying."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Fire. Which is why… when the time… you have to kill me. You can't let me die and come back, because I can't… I don't want…"

Tears fell unchecked down Barty's face, but he nodded. "I get it. I promise."

…

Regulus was sweating profusely. He felt _awful,_ and he knew, he knew that his time… it was almost over. He'd fought for hours, unwilling to leave Barty until the last moment.

This… this was that moment.

"You get to that safe camp, and you live. Do you hear me?" he forced out, his arm heavy when he reached up to pat Barty's cheek. "You live, and you do great things."

"I don't want to without you," Barty whispered, his eyes filling with tears that had been appearing on and off since he'd first seen the bite.

"Do it for me," Regulus demanded. "And when… when you've lived a life full of memories, you can come find me, okay? I'll be waiting for you."

Barty nodded. "Promise?"

"I swear."

Barty picked up the handgun that Regulus had found in a small box in the barn. They'd kept it close by, just in case. It felt heavy in his hand.

"When… when you get there, see if you can find Sirius. Tell him… tell him I love him."

Barty nodded. "I will. I know… I know that we haven't known each other long, but… but you… I…"

"I know. I know. I love you too."

Barty put the gun gently against Regulus' temple. "I love you," he murmured. "I'll see you when I have a lifetime of memories to share with you."

Regulus smiled, his eyes gazing up into Barty's.

Barty pulled the trigger and cried.

…

When Barty made it to the safety zone, he was checked thoroughly before being granted asylum. They stripped him, checking every inch of him for bite marks or infected wounds.

"You were lucky to have made it here alone," one of them commented, watching him with something akin to awe.

Later, when Barty sat down beside the lake, he looked up at the stars. He felt numb. "How am I the lucky one?"

* * *

 **Written for;**

Harry Potter Hunger Games - Haven / Guilt / "It's the end of the world as we know it." / Regulus / Fire

Character Appreciation - 14. Saving Someone's life

Disney - Shere Khan - Someone scared of fire

Dark Lady - 19. A horrific discovery

Book Club - Katherine - Fear / Sundown / Brick / Numbness

Showtime - 9. "What are you afraid of?"

Lyric Alley - 13. How am I the lucky one?

Ami's Audio - 9. Multiple people dying.

Angel's Arcade - Big the Cat - Pond / Frog / Purple

Sewing 101 - Fabric - 3. Knife / Pattern - 1. Regret / Colour - 2. Navy

Feline Fair - 5. Burmese. Someone who doesn't like to be alone.

Slash September - RegulusBarty

Auction - Regulus Black


	15. DruellaAbraxas

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for Hogwarts Assignment 8;** Ghost Hunting Task 1 - Write about Adultery.

 **Other Challenges Listed at the Bottom.**

 **Word count** \- 1768

* * *

 **Unfair Is The World We Live In**

* * *

They fell in love as teenagers, drunk on the freedom from their families, holding hands and trading kisses in hidden alcoves of the school corridors. It was a simple time, an easy time, a _happy time._ A time where they could push their coming responsibilities to the back of their minds and just _be._

It was a shame it couldn't last.

She tried not to worry for the future, but she didn't often manage it. She knew that they would never be wed. She knew that the bad blood between their families meant that she would never call herself a Malfoy.

She worried for a future where she would bear the name of another.

…

Druella smoothed her periwinkle robes nervously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to do this, and yet, she had no real choice.

She watched from beside her mother as her father greeted the newcomers. Druella remained silent as her father introduced first her mother and then her. She knew better than to speak without express permission.

It had been drilled into her how important this meeting was for their family. How much their fate rested solely on Druella's shoulders.

This wasn't the first time she'd laid eyes on Cygnus Black. She'd seen him in her first few years at Hogwarts before he left. Thankfully, she'd been insignificant to him then, but she'd heard enough rumours about him to know that this wasn't something she wanted.

Even if Abraxas hadn't already stolen her heart so completely, she wouldn't want this man.

"Miss Rosier," he murmured, kissing her hand. She only barely managed to keep her composure and not flinch away from him. "You are a vision."

She forced herself to smile demurely in thanks.

Cygnus took his seat, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole time their fathers were discussing a contract that would tie their families together. His gaze felt uncomfortable, burning into her skin, like pin pricks of the sharpest needle.

She watched her father and Cygnus' shake hands and felt her heart sink. That simple gesture had sealed her fate.

She was to be married to Cygnus Black, and there was nothing she could so about it.

…

He pressed gentle kisses to her bare shoulder, his hand skimming her side, his fingertips drawing out goosebumps.

"It's not fair," she lamented, leaning further against him.

"We don't live in a world that's fair," he murmured. "We live in this one."

"His touch makes my skin crawl," she muttered.

Abraxas pulled back to look at her properly. "If you asked me to run with you, you know that I'll do it in an instant. If this is all we can have, then I'll take this too. As long as you continue to be in my life, I will bear whatever misfortune I must."

A single tear fell onto her cheek. "Then I suppose that this is what we shall have."

…

Cygnus' anger was scary. He raged and he shouted and screamed. Druella accepted it, the way she'd accepted everything else in her life, because it was her duty.

As his wife, his anger was hers to receive.

This was the hand she'd been dealt.

The bruises littering her arms and wrists were painful, but he wouldn't allow her to heal them. Thankfully, he kept his anger to places where the marks wouldn't be easily seen, but she knew that was on purpose.

Having a wife wearing bruises like diamonds was bad, even in pureblood society.

Druella spoke quietly with her mother, and her mother had done naught but pat her hair with a sympathetic smile. "You will learn, as you age, ways to quell his anger before it leads to such marks."

Druella didn't want to have to learn such ways; she wanted to be married to a man that respected her enough to not leave marks of anger on her skin. She wanted to be married to a man with gentle hands and soft words.

Abraxas' words rang in her mind. _We don't live in a world that is fair._

She twisted the diamond ring on her finger and sighed. He'd never been more right.

…

Abraxas lingered over her bruised ribs, his eyes pained. "What was he angry about this time?"

Druella shook her head. "He was ranting about the latest bill to be passed by the Wizengamot."

"He is an ignorant pig," Abraxas spat. "The bill was passed because it was the right thing. He was one of the few who argued against it."

Druella ran a hand through Abraxas' silky locks. "Don't worry yourself, my love. It wasn't so bad this time."

"I always worry about you. He is getting worse, I worry how much more he will do to you in his anger."

"He will not kill me. The political storm that would follow such a thing could ruin him. Cygnus is very concerned with the way he appears after all."

"Perhaps… perhaps we should stop this," Abraxas murmured after a long pause. "I… if he finds out about us, I fear the consequences you would face."

"If that is the only reason that you wish to stop, then I beg you reconsider," Druella whispered, her heart thudding in her chest. "You are all that keeps me going, some days, Abraxas. You are my only source of comfort."

Abraxas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down so she was sitting on his knee. "I worry for you."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

…

The back of his hand stung her cheek and she was knocked to the floor with the force of it.

Clutching her cheek, she watched in horror as he threw her keepsake box onto the table beside him.

It had been hidden away in her wardrobe, right in the back behind her fanciest of robes. She had no idea how he'd found it, but she felt a frisson of fear. Inside the box was memories of Abraxas, of presents he'd bought her, and even a few pictures of the two of them when they were young.

Cygnus gripped a stuffed lion in his hand, his knuckles whitening with the force. Druella remembered Abraxas handing her the lion with a sheepish smile and a faint blush. It had been on one of their first dates, when he'd learned she was allergic to most flowers.

Cygnus glared down at her. "Do you think me a fool?" he demanded.

Druella shook her head, looking down.

"You keep trinkets, _photographs,_ of another man in the house I own, in the house where we live together!"

His face was red with anger and she flinched when he loomed over her. He didn't move to hit her again, instead, he threw the stuffed lion into the fireplace, followed immediately by everything else in the box.

He crouched down, holding her chin in a rough grip. "If I find out that you've been whoring yourself with him since we got married, I'll _murder_ you _both."_

Cygnus shook his head in disgust at her and stormed from the room. Druella remained on the floor, her eyes on the flickering flames destroying her most treasured possessions.

Tears fell from her eyes, streaming unchecked down her face.

…

"We can't do this anymore," she said flatly.

Abraxas stared at her for a long moment. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, this is nothing to do with -"

" _What did he do to you_?"

Tears welled in Druella's eyes, no matter how hard she tried to force them away. "He… he burnt _everything._ The photos, the presents… he found them and he destroyed them. He said, he said that if we… he'll kill us both. I can't, I can't be responsible for him hurting you, I _can't_."

Abraxas approached her slowly, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand. "If that is the only reason that you wish to stop, then I beg you reconsider," he whispered. "You are all that keeps me going, some days, Druella."

Having her words repeated back to her after so long was too much and she fell forward into his arms. He held her tightly, his hand stroking her back.

"I'm not scared of Cygnus Black, my love. Were it not for the society we live in, I would have killed him years ago. I won't let him take you from me. Not now, not ever."

…

Druella held her third, and last child in her arms. The blonde wisps of hair made her lips tilt up for a mere moment, before Cygnus entered the room.

His eyes were on Narcissa, and Druella swallowed hard before she held the small bundle out. "Come and meet your daughter," she said, relinquishing her hold when Cygnus secured his arms.

"Hmm." He looked down at the tiny baby. " _My_ daughter," he nodded. He looked up at Druella, his eyes glittering oddly. "You should sleep, my dear. Childbirth is not for the faint of heart after all."

He laid Narcissa in the small cot beside Druella's bed and leant over to kiss Druella's cheek. When he reached the door, he looked back.

"You must be happy, to finally have a child with _your_ colouring. Sleep well, my dear."

…

The news of Abraxas' murder spread through the community like wildfire, picking up new and often exaggerated details with each retelling. The only thing that remained the same each time was that the mastermind of the murder had not been caught.

Druella sat in the rocking chair of the nursery with Narcissa asleep in her arms. Lightning flashed outside the window, leaving pretty patterns in the sky.

She liked to think that Abraxas was up there somewhere in heaven, looking down on her with the fond smile he'd saved only for her.

She knew that Cygnus was his killer. Knew it with a sureness that had settled into her very bones, because he knew, as well as she knew, that Narcissa's colouring wasn't from Druella.

She wasn't sure what had made Cygnus spare her his wrath. She thought perhaps it was the children, though she couldn't be sure.

She wouldn't tell anybody the truth. That wasn't the way she'd been brought up, and she knew that Abraxas would understand that. She thought that he would want her to stay safe, to keep breathing for as long as she could before she could go and join him in whatever afterlife was awaiting.

Regardless, no matter the way it had ended, Druella couldn't regret following her heart.

* * *

 **Also Written For;**

 **Writing Club**

Disney - C1. A young woman following her heart.

Lizzy's Loft - 4. Stuffed Lion

Amber's Attic - 2. Someone worrying about the future.

Angel's Arcade - Dr Neo Cortex - Mastermind / Lightning / Periwinkle

Lo's Lowdown - Q3 - "We don't live in a world that's fair. We live in this one."

Bex's Basement - 3. Hulk - Someone with anger management problems.

 **Seasonal**

Autumn - Scary

Element - Heaven

Ravenclaw - Ignorant

Star Chart - Draconids Meteor Shower - Diamond Ring


	16. GeorgeSeamus II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for Hogwarts Assignment 8** \- Performing Arts, Task 3; Genre - Hurt/Comfort

 **Word Count** \- 1721

 _Beta'd by_

* * *

 **It's Just A Headache (Until It's Not)**

* * *

There was a loud crash as Seamus opened the door and he rolled his eyes to himself. Far too often he came home to such noises. Usually he didn't mind, but he had a headache and honestly, the last thing he needed was to clean up whatever mess was undoubtedly being made in his living room.

He stripped off his Healer robe and hung it up on its usual peg, kicking his shoes onto the stand while he was at it. He'd love to do nothing more than snuggle under a blanket for the rest of the evening, but he knew that George had his heart set on Hermione's party.

The chaos that came with George was worth the sacrifice of peace of course, but sometimes Seamus just wanted to curl up on the sofa and not move.

"Hey babe," he called, padding down the hallway of the warm flat. He stopped in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

George smiled sheepishly from where he was hanging upside down above the sofa. "Let's face it, this isn't the worst thing you've caught me doing."

Seamus sighed. "Sadly, you're not wrong. Are you supposed to be upside down or would you like some help getting down?"

What was his life that questions like that one are normal?

"Ahh, help would be nice?"

Seamus snorted but pulled out his wand, carefully turning George the right way around and lowering him gentle to sit on the sofa. He collapsed down beside him, tucking his head against George's neck.

"I've had a really long day, give me a hug."

George chuckled but wrapped his arms around Seamus dutifully, pressing an affectionate kiss to his temple.

"Tonight will help you feel better," he murmured. "Hermione's bonfire party sounds like it's going to be great; and I even convinced her to use my fireworks instead of Muggle ones."

"It's rainy," Seamus complained, snuggling closer. "And I have an enormous headache."

George's arms tightened, and Seamus could hear the worry in his voice when he said, "You've been having a lot of headaches lately, babe. Have you spoken to one of your colleagues about it?"

"I'm fine," Seamus grumbled.

"Uh huh. Humour me and have someone take a look at you during your next shift please."

Seamus closed his eyes for a moment, before he nodded against George's neck. "Kay. If it'll make you feel better, I'll get checked out."

"That's all I ask of you. How about a bath before we go out? I'll see if I can't massage this headache of yours away?"

"You're the best."

Even knowing he had to get back up, Seamus took a moment to just enjoy the hug with George, to just… revel in the safety of warm arms and soft kisses.

…

George's giddiness at Hermione's bonfire was infectious. Seamus watched his boyfriend bounding around the large field, and he couldn't help but laugh. He'd already bashed into a few people in his excitement, though they'd all laughed it off.

His headache was still present though, and he kept to the outer edges of the field. He didn't think he would be able to handle the loudness of their friends.

"Having fun?"

Seamus turned to see Dean grinning at him, and he nodded, stuffing his cold hands into his pockets. "Sure, what's not to like?"

Dean looked warm, all wrapped up in a long jacket and a honey coloured scarf and gloves. Seamus couldn't help but be jealous. He hadn't had the energy to search for his own.

"You look tired, mate."

Seamus shrugged. "It happens. Long shifts."

Dean nodded, looking thoughtful. "You and George should take a vacation, just the two of you."

Seamus smiled. Vacation sounded perfect, if he was honest with himself. A week or two of relaxing by a pool with his handsome redhead there to rub sunscreen into his skin would be heaven.

He was about to say as much when a wave of dizziness had him stumbling, caught by his best friend.

"Shay? Shay, are you okay?"

Seamus gripped Dean's forearm tightly until the dizzy spell passed. "I'm good. Just went a little dizzy is all."

"Uh huh. Are you still getting headaches?"

At the sheepish look on Seamus' face, Dean rolled his eyes. "Why are Healers always the worst at taking care of their own health?"

"Shay! Firework time!" George shouted, coming towards them. "Come on, babe, I put a couple of special ones in just for you."

Seamus let George tug him along, Dean following behind them at a more sedate pace. The grass was crunchy underfoot, and it seemed oddly loud to Seamus' ears. He allowed George to pull him closer to the crowd, and the first bang sounded, followed by a sparkle of colour in the navy sky.

That was quickly followed by even louder booming sounds. Each one felt like a hammer to Seamus' skull and he couldn't stop the wincing.

A second, stronger wave of dizziness overtook him, and he gripped the closest thing to him, which happened to be George's arm, drawing George's attention.

"Seamus? Shay? _Shay?"_

Seamus wanted to answer him, to tell him that he was fine, but he couldn't. He could hear the panic in George's voice, but his vision was starting to go black at the edges, and his brain felt fuzzy.

"He's just had a dizzy spell a few minutes ago," he heard Dean say. Seamus wanted to tell him off for being a tattle tale, but he couldn't do that either, because he was falling, his legs taking an inappropriate break from their job of holding him up.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was George's face, his panicked eyes begging Seamus to be okay.

…

Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, making it hard to sit still outside of the hospital room.

When Seamus' had collapsed, George hadn't known what to do. He'd lifted his boyfriend in his arms, intending to apparate him to St Mungo's, but Hermione had yelled at him to put Seamus back down.

She'd called for the Healers and put Seamus into a 'recovery' position on the cold damp grass.

George remembered complaining to her that Seamus would get cold, and Seamus didn't like the cold, but he didn't remember much more than that.

The transport Healers had arrived and everything had been a blur as they took him away, telling George he could follow on using the usual visitors entrance. Charlie had come with him.

None of his family or friends were willing to leave him to deal with this alone. George supposed that was only a natural reaction.

After all, it was Seamus that had given George some semblance of life back after Fred. He was the first to make George smile, the first to engage him into a real conversation, the first to draw him out of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes for longer than half an hour.

If George lost Seamus…

But no. That wasn't going to happen. It wouldn't. George had to believe that because the alternative didn't bear thinking about.

"Here," Charlie murmured, and George looked up to see his older brother holding out a polystyrene cup. "Tea. You know mum says tea makes everything better."

George smiled weakly, taking the cup and wrapping his hands around it. The warmth emanating from it was comforting in an odd way, and the smell wafting up in the steam helped to settle his nerves.

"He's going to be okay, you know?" Charlie said after a minute. "Whatever it is that's wrong with him, he'll be okay. He's a stubborn Gryffindor, after all."

"I… what if he's not?" George asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"He will be."

Charlie sounded so sure, that George thought maybe he had to believe him. He drank from the cup, the tea warming him from the inside. Leaning over, he let his head fall against Charlie's jumper covered shoulder. The burgundy wool itched his cheek, but he didn't move.

"Thanks… for being here."

"As if I'd be anywhere else."

"You could just say 'you're welcome', you know?"

"Fine. You're welcome. Better?"

"Much."

…

"They won't tell me anything," George said quietly. "Why won't they tell me anything?"

He was sitting beside Seamus' bed, holding his limp hand between both of his own. Hermione sat on the other side, her eyes on their joined hands.

"Patient confidentiality," she replied. "He has a right to privacy and since you're not married, they can't tell you anything without his permission."

"Hermione… something bad is happening. I can feel it. They're not telling me but I'm not stupid, he should have woken up by now. It's been eleven days."

"Just… try and stay optimistic. Talk to him, about anything, happy memories or… whatever you want. That's been proven to help coma patients, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

…

"I thought I'd never see your eyes again," George sobbed, leaning over Seamus. Seamus's arms wrapped around him, a comfort unlike any George had ever known before.

"Listen to me," Seamus whispered. George pulled back, frowning. Seamus' voice was stronger than he'd expected it to be, after so long in a coma. "You're going to be fine. I know you think… you have to keep going, okay? You have to keep working, and spending time with our friends, and you have to keep smiling. Promise me, George."

"I… What?"

"Promise me, you'll keep going and keep smiling."

"I promise," George said, unsure of what was going on. He didn't… he didn't understand, but Seamus's eyes were practically begging him and George had never been very good at saying no to him.

"I love you, okay? Never forget that, please. I love you, and I'll _always_ love you."

"I… I love you too. Shay, _what's going on_?"

"I… I have to go… I love you… remember your promise, George. Please, just… be happy."

…

George woke to a monotone beep, confused and befuddled by the strange dream. He didn't notice the healers rushing into the room until he was being ushered out of it. He didn't understand what was going on.

Seamus was fine… if being a bit weird, but he was awake and fine and…

" _I'm so sorry, Mr Weasley. We tried all we could but… time of death has been called."_

* * *

 **Also Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 23. Gryffindor

Disney - S3. "You're welcome."

Lizzy's loft - 10. Redhead

Book Club - Lisa - Healer / Privacy / Worried

Showtime - 11. Affectionate

Amber's Attic - 20. Something bad happening at a party.

Buttons - O5. Fireworks / W4. Adrenaline

Lyric Alley - 13. "That's all I ask of you."

Ami's Audio - 13. Hurt/Comfort / Sacrifice

Sophie's Shelf - BN2. Fireworks

Emy's Emporium - 3. Crunchy

Angel's Arcade - 4. Crunch Bandicoot - Burgundy / Lifting something / Charlie Weasley / "Give me a hug."

Lo's Lowdown - C8. Healer

Bex's Basement - 2. Iron Man - "Let's face it, this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing."

Film Festival - 8. "I've had a really long day."

Days of the year - 5. Boom / bang / crash / bash

Autumn - Rainy

Colour - Honey

Dessert - Cake 1 - Enjoying something with a loved one

Princess Day - 6. Jasmine - Stubborn

Around the Board - 9. Someone seeking medical attention

Marauders Map - Seamus Finnigan / Headache

Zoo - Elephant Enclosure - GeorgeSeamus / Enormous / Giddiness


	17. RegulusBarty III

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Button Bonanza, Blue 13. Power _and_ Character Appreciation, 29. Cool

 **Word Count** \- 682

* * *

 **A Promise Broken (A Heart Shattered)**

* * *

You watched from across the hall. Green surrounding more green. Laughter, smiles, smirks. Knowing looks and raised eyebrows. Pushing and shoving and friendly banter.

Regulus was sitting in the middle of it all, the Prince of the seventh year Slytherin students. He was so cool and collected. They all looked to him, they wanted his attention, his appreciation, his guidance.

You had that. In private, he was yours to hold, yours to kiss, yours to caress. He was yours to love, and you threw that away and you know the jealousy is eating you up inside because you don't have him anymore.

You hate the blue on your tie, because it separates you from him. It keeps a barrier between you, one that's even larger than him refusing to be open in his affections for you. He cannot be seen to love anyone. He told you that, and you promised you understood. You didn't.

You threw it back in his face and you left him, and that's your fault.

…

 _"Barty... you're wearing my tie."_

 _"Eh? Oh... yeah. Sorry."_

 _"Leave it on. It looks good on you."_

…

He ignores you entirely now and you hate it. No more secret glances in the corridors. No more secret notes in your pockets with times and places to meet up. No more stolen kisses. No more whispered confessions. No more Regulus, and all because you couldn't control your emotions.

He keeps his distance. You've been up to the Astronomy tower every night since you shouted at him, since you told him you couldn't deal with it anymore. He hasn't been there once. He doesn't want you anymore and it kills you to know that if you'd only held your temper, only controlled yourself better, you'd still have at least a part of him.

You'd still have his heart.

The same way he's holding yours hostage.

…

 _"You shouldn't join him. You know it's not a good idea, Reg."_

 _"What am I supposed to do, Barty? It's what's expected. Sirius certainly isn't planning to do his family duty, is he? He isn't going to give them the power they crave. It's left to me."_

 _"I just... I don't want you to get hurt."_

 _"I know. It... it is what it is. Come on, we need to go to the top. I want a cigarette, and the last thing I need is to be caught smoking again."_

…

You know that he's going to be angry with you, but the fear, the doubts and the uncertainty in your decision are secondary always to the knowledge that if you join _him_ , you'll be closer to Regulus. An ugly tattoo on your arm in exchange for being close to the only boy you've ever loved; the only person who's ever loved and accepted you as you are, rather than who you should be.

You also know that this doesn't guarantee he'll take you back.

But it's worth the effort.

It's worth the fear.

Because he'll be there and you'll be there and that's closer than you've been in months.

…

 _"I wish we could run away, just you and me. We'd be happy, Barty. I'd make you happy."_

 _"You already do. I love you."_

 _"I know. I love you too."_

…

He shouts at you. You're pleased. If he didn't still love you, he wouldn't care that you've taken the mark. If he didn't still love you, he wouldn't have fear shining from his beautiful eyes. If he didn't still love you, he wouldn't have pulled you aside privately at all.

You grab his arm and pull him close.

He holds on tight.

You kiss him, passionately, desperately, longingly...

He pushes you away, disgusted and tells you no.

…

 _"You're so pure and innocent. I love that about you the most."_

 _"Reg..."_

 _"No. It's true. There's nothing dark and mysterious about you. It's refreshing. Simple. Perfect. Don't ever change, Barty. Promise me."_

 _"I... promise."_

…

You broke your promise to him.

You know that's why he disappeared.

He never realised that you became this for him, and he took himself away.

You'll never be pure again.


	18. PiersDudley II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Button Bonanza, Pink 3. Piers Polkiss _and_ Angel's Arcade, 2. Coco Bandicoot - Hot Pink, Jealousy, Cell Phone.

 **Word Count** \- 362

* * *

 **Alone**

* * *

Piers walked the streets.

Alone.

He was always alone these days.

Dudley was gone, who the fuck knew where, and he hadn't even had the courtesy to call Piers every now and then on his mobile to let him know that he was, you know, still alive and all.

Malcolm, Dennis and Gordon had stopped calling too, but he didn't care so much about that. They'd only ever stuck around for Dudley's protection anyway.

Still at least they had each other.

Piers had seen the three of them in town, harassing some younger teens in the arcade, laughing and joking and being the prats they were.

He'd never admit outloud that jealousy had churned inside him for hours afterwards.

It's just… Dudley had always been there, for as long as Piers could remember. From being children, stealing toys of others, to being teens, smoking cigarettes because they thought it made them cool.

Piers remembered the two of them coughing up a storm until they got used to the inhaling of smoke. They'd done that before they shared the cigarettes with the others, and then the two of them had jeered at them for not being able to handle the smoke.

He remembered the first time they'd beat a kid up together, the first time they'd gotten drunk together, the first time they'd stayed up all night watching shit movies and taking the piss out of them.

Piers _missed_ Dudley.

He wandered aimlessly for hours, stopping only when he reached his front door. He hadn't even realised he'd been walking back home.

Except…

His front doorstep was occupied.

"I thought you were never gonna get home, fucking hell."

Piers blinked. Then blinked again.

"Dudley?"

"In the flesh. You gonna let me in, it's fucking freezing and I've been waiting for you for _hours."_

Piers snorted. "I've been waiting for you for a _year."_

Dudley gestured to the box beside him. "I brought you a thing, what more do you want?"

Piers looked at the box. "Is that… Dudley, did you wrap me a present in _hot pink wrapping paper?"_

Dudley rolled his eyes. "It was what my mum had. Open the goddamn door."


	19. HarryGinny

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for;** Button Bonanza, Yellow 12. Gryffindor Common Room _and_ Showtime 10. "I must go."

 **Word Count** \- 428

* * *

 **Just A Moment**

* * *

Destroyed as it was, the Gryffindor Common Room still welcomed Harry like a long lost son. It was so nice to see the place he'd grown up again, even with the fallen furniture and slightly crumbled walls.

To know that the assault was done, that the Common Room, and the Castle, would be restored to its usual grandness, made Harry smile.

He'd forgotten how it felt to smile.

Using what little strength he had left, he picked up on of the fallen armchairs and pushed it in front of the unlit fireplace. Slumping down in the comfy chair, he still felt an echo of the warmth he'd felt there so many nights before.

He wanted… he wanted so many things, but at the moment, a shower, sleep and food all seemed to be at the forefront of his mind. Unfortunately, a shower took effort, and eating seemed like a bad plan.

He was still somewhat nauseous from the drop in adrenaline rush that had been keeping him going for… well, for months if he was honest, but certainly for the last twenty four hours.

He closed his eyes, certain that sleep was what he really needed. Everything else could come later, when he wasn't so worn out.

He startled when the door creaked open, his hand automatically reaching for his wand. He only relaxed when he realised it was Ginny.

She approached him slowly, her face streaked with blood, tears and dirt. She'd never looked more beautiful to him. He reached a hand out to her, gratified when she accepted it and allowed him to pull her into his lap.

His arms wrapped around her as she fell against his chest and he buried his face in her hair, relishing in it for a moment.

"How are you doing?" he asked her quietly.

She pulled back enough to look at him. "Okay, I guess. I just… mum wanted us all to stay together, but I just… i told her that I must go find you, and I guess she understood."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry about Fred, Gin."

Ginny swallowed hard. "Me… me too. He, I…" She shook her head. "Can we just… not. Just for a little while. I'm so tired, Harry."

He understood that. He shuffled down in the chair a little more, cradling her body against his. "Okay. Just… just close your eyes. Just for a while. They'll wake us if they need us."

Ginny nodded, leaning back against his chest, pausing only to kiss his cheek. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too."


	20. RegulusBarty IV

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Buttons Bonanza, Green 1. "You're making a mistake." _and_ Showtime, 8. "Wasn't it yesterday?"

 **Word Count** \- 402

* * *

 **Just Yesterday**

* * *

"You're making a mistake."

Barty glanced across the tiny room they'd been put in. "I don't think so."

"You're doing this for me," Regulus argued. "Not because you believe, not because you want to, not because it's a good life choice for you. You're making a mistake, Barty."

"If I didn't do this, would I ever see you again?"

Silence is the only answer."

"Then it's not a mistake."

…

"What did they do to you?" Regulus gasped, rushing across the room to help Barty into his favoured chair.

"I fucked up," Barty wheezed out. "And paid the price. I'll be fine, Reg."

"This isn't right," Regulus murmured, silently summoning the first aid kit. "You got these injuries because of me. _How dare they?"_

"I'll be fine, sweetheart," Barty replied, wincing when Regulus carefully took care of one of the wounds on his arm. "I promise."

…

"Regulus?"

Regulus looked up to see Barty sitting up in the bed, sleep muzzed and adorable.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, shielding a yawn behind his hand.

"Couldn't sleep," Regulus admitted. "Haven't been able to sleep since the raid."

Barty reached out a hand, and Regulus took it, allowing his boyfriend pull him back to bed.

"I'll keep you safe, baby," Barty crooned softly, wrapping himself around Regulus as close as he could. "Nobody can get you when you're in my arms."

…

Regulus was restless. Had been for days, and Barty had tried everything he could think of to help settle him, all to no avail. He crossed the living room and held his hand out to Regulus.

"Dance with me," he murmured.

"What?"

"Dance with me," Barty repeated, pulling Regulus to his feet when Regulus took his hand. He led the rhythm, just a slow sway, and gradually, Regulus relaxed into his hold.

"Wasn't it just yesterday when I first held you this way?" Barty whispered. "It feels like it."

Regulus chuckled softly. "Not quite."

"Five years… and you make me feel just as happy now as you did then."

"Sap."

Barty grinned, when despite the insult, Regulus' grip on him tightened.

…

"Why do I feel like you've been trying to tell me goodbye?" Barty asked quietly.

The man sleeping beside him slept on, restless, even in his sleep.

 _Barty didn't know it, but it would be the last time he fell asleep to the soft sounds of Regulus' breathing._


	21. HarryGinny II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Button Bonanza, Green 14. "You're hurt." _and_ Disney, C3. Write about a protective father.

 **Word Count** \- 438

* * *

 **Kiss It Better**

* * *

Harry raced down the garden, his heart in his mouth. Albus' cries sounded in his ears. His son lay on the grass, sobbing as he clutched at his leg.

"You're hurt, where are you hurt?" Harry asked, falling to his knees.

"I fell, Daddy," Albus sobbed. His jeans were a little torn, and Harry could see a a graze beneath the material.

His heart rate slowly returning to a steady beat, he scooped Albus up in his arms and started back to the house, careful so he didn't jostle the little boy too much.

Ginny stood by the back door, a fond look on her face as Harry approached. Harry ignored her smirk and carried Albus inside, laying him down carefully on the sofa. He pulled the jeans off him and checked over the graze.

Albus' cries had tapered off, but he let out a yell when Ginny came up behind Harry and swiped the graze with a disinfectant wipe. She handed Harry the plaster she'd fetched with her.

"It's all fine, Albie," Harry murmured. "Daddy will kiss it better and put a plaster on it, and it'll be all fine."

Albus nodded, and Harry followed through on his words, smiling when the little boy grinned up at him. Ginny returned to the room with a fresh pair of jeans and Harry helped Albus into them.

Within minutes, Albus was wiggling from Harry's arms and scampering back out to the garden. Harry followed on, sitting at the kitchen table where he had a full view of the garden.

"You're so protective," Ginny murmured, standing behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I thought it might have worn off a little, after all the bumps and scrapes James gets."

Harry shrugged, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. "I want them to know that we'll always be there if they need us. They'll never feel alone like I did growing up, you know? They'll always know that they're loved."

"I know, sweetheart," Ginny replied. "I hope you're ready to expand that love though. We'll have another one to worry about falling over soon."

Harry twisted his neck to look up at her, his smile taking over his face. "Really? Already?"

Ginny kissed him soundly. "Uh huh. Already."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, a little concerned about the effect on her body, to have three consecutive pregnancies so close together.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Besides, it just means you've got another nine months of back rubs and cravings to deal with."

Harry kissed her again. "I can't wait."


	22. PercyOliver

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Buttons Bonanza, Blue 11. Time _and_ Showtime, 12. Broom.

 **Word Count;** 770

* * *

 **Together**

* * *

The hospital room was _bleak._ Percy had counted the ceiling tiles at least seven times in the time he'd been sitting in the uncomfortable high back chair by the bed. He'd tried reading journal's, catching up on paperwork, hell, he'd even read Oliver's favourite Quidditch magazine front cover to back, and still, he couldn't distract himself from the never ending stream of _what if he doesn't wake up?_

It had been _four days._ The Healers had been hopeful that Oliver would awaken in three, and the extra time was doing very little for Percy's state of mind.

There'd been a stream of visitors, both of their families and Oliver's teammates, but nobody stayed too long.

Almost all of them had offered to remain while Percy left and got some rest, but the idea was laughable. No matter that his back hurt with every movement, there was no way would Percy be leaving the chair longer than it took to go to the bathroom.

Oliver would wake up. He had too.

Percy sighed and looked at the still body in the bed.

There was no other option.

…

"What am I going to do if I can't play again, Perce?" Oliver asked, his fear clear in his voice.

"You're going to be the same amazing man you've always been," Percy replied quietly. "And you'll find something else that you love just as much to put your time into."

Oliver shook his head, tugging at the short strands of brown hair as he roughly ran a hand through it. "You don't get it. You've always been good at loads of things. I've only ever… Quidditch is all I have."

If Oliver hadn't been looking at Percy, he'd have missed the flash of hurt that passed over his features. He immediately felt awful.

By all accounts, Percy had sat by his bedside for the almost five days he'd been unconscious, and even before that, Percy had always been there for everything.

Every concussion, every bad mood, every celebration.

Percy had always been at his side.

"Percy-"

"They told me four hours before you woke up that you might not. They'd expected an earlier response and when they didn't get it, they told me to prepare for the worst," Percy whispered, interrupting Oliver. "So at the moment, I'm still thanking every possibly deity that can hear me that you're here with me. So no, Ollie, I don't care what you do if you can't play Quidditch anymore. I don't care if you get a different job, or find a weird hobby or even if you lounge around our home in your underwear day in and day out. _Because at least you're alive to do it._ "

He stood up before Oliver could grab his hand.

"I'm just going to get a coffee, I'll fetch you a cup of tea back in a few minutes."

Oliver wanted to call him back, but he always knew when Percy needed a minute so he let him go without complaint. He laid in the bed, aching and frustrated and angry with himself.

Percy was right of course, Oliver should be grateful to still be alive. It had been a nasty tumble, and it _could_ have killed him.

Percy returned ten minutes later with two steaming cups and looking a little more composed.

"I'm sorry," Oliver murmured, reaching out for Percy's hand as soon as he placed the two cups on the small table. "I'm sorry. I know I have you, I do, and I'm so grateful you're in my life, Perc. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Percy leant over the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to Oliver's temple. "It's going to be okay, you know. I just spoke to the Healer outside, and now that you're awake and they know that your mind is fine, they're really hopeful for a full recovery. You will get back on a broom, sweetheart."

Tears fell from Oliver's eyes and Percy wiped them away gently. "We'll get through this, the same way we do everything else, Ollie. Together."

…

Percy stood in the stands, his cheeks pink, his lips chapped and his hair windblown. He was smiling widely as Oliver did a lap of honour with his team.

In a few hours, Oliver would be announcing his retirement from Quidditch, but he couldn't have gone out on a bigger high.

Percy was so proud of him.

He laugh when Oliver broke away from his team mates and flew towards the stands, pausing his broom in mid air right in front of Percy.

He held out a hand.

"Want a lift?"


	23. Draco-Centric

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Button Bonanza, Red 9. Draco Malfoy _and_ Showtime, 3. Peacock.

 **Word Count** \- 378

* * *

 **What Comes Next**

* * *

He wandered the grounds. The sun had long since set, but he'd been unable to sleep. The Manor, once a wonderful home, was now filled with shadows Draco didn't want to face.

One of his father's prized albino peacocks walked past him, cooing quietly, but he paid it no mind. He should look into selling them, since he had no desire to hand rear them himself like his father did.

He didn't have the time or the inclination, and with Lucius in Azkaban for life, it wasn't as though his Father could curse him for it.

The Manor was silhouetted against the moon and it seemed foreboding in a way it never had before to Draco.

His childhood had been forever tainted by the monster he'd sworn to serve.

He'd been such an idiot, and now, what did he have to show for it? A Manor that terrified him, nightmares that wouldn't let up, a mother that couldn't get through the day without copious amounts of alcohol, and his father in Azkaban.

It was all such a mess, and Draco didn't have the first clue how to make any of it better. Was it even possible to make any of it better?

He doubted it.

Draco didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Was he supposed to try and rebuild? Was he supposed to get the hell out of the country and try and start fresh somewhere nobody knew him?

Was he supposed to fade into the background, and let people forget what a coward he was, what a liability he'd always been?

Was he supposed to just… stop existing? (why was that so inviting?)

Draco sighed to himself and began walking slowly back to the manor. He'd lie in his bed until morning, when he'd force himself up once more, encourage his mother to eat something before she began her new liquid diet, and then, he supposed, he should start to make plans.

He knew he was lucky to have escaped Azkaban himself but…

Sometimes, he craved the safety of a prison cell.

Sometimes, when he looked at the manor, when he looked at his mother, he _envied_ his father.

At least in prison, it would be someone else's responsibility to know what comes next.


	24. RemusSirius

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Button Bonanza, Green 9. "You're cute when you're angry."

 **Word Count** \- 367

* * *

 **You're Cute**

* * *

Remus was fuming with Sirius.

Like always.

Sirius listened to him rage and shout for ten minutes before he decided it was time to intervene.

"You're cute when you're angry, you know?"

Remus stuttered to a stop. "What?"

"You heard me. Did you never realise that I make you mad on purpose because you scrunch your nose up all cute and adorable when you're mad at me?"

"You… what?"

"You… really don't know?" Sirius asked, blinking owlishly. "Moony, I've been coming on to you for _months."_

"You, no you haven't, you -"

"You really haven't noticed me flirting with you? Really?"

" _You flirt with everyone and everything. You flirted with the parrot in transfiguration last week!"_

"Well, yes, but also, I love you."

Remus stared at him for a moment, before he frowned, concern filling his eyes. "Have you been given a love potion? Sirius, have you eaten anything lying around the dorm. _I'm going to kill James."_

Sirius shook his head and threw his hands up in the air. "When are you going to realise that you are, in fact, lovable!"

He fell face down on his bed. "Idiot," he grumbled into the pillow, while Remus still muttered on about spells and potions that he could have been given.

…

"I didn't pull any pranks on Padfoot!" James shouted for the fifth time. "I was out with Lily, Moony. I haven't been in the dorm all day!"

"But… that's the only thing that makes sense!"

"Or maybe Sirius is telling the truth and he loves you?" Peter offered, rolling his eyes. "Even I noticed, Remus."

"He, you, what?"

Sirius twisted so he was laying on his back. "Do you believe me now?"

"You really… really?"

"Really, really, _really."_

"I… thanks?"

"Moony?"

"Hmm?" Remus hummed still looking a little shellshocked.

"Come cuddle with me," Sirius demanded, making grabby hands until Remus moved slowly towards him. As soon as he was in reaching distance, Sirius pulled him down on the bed, ignoring the squawk of protest.

"Idiot," Sirius muttered, burying his face against Remus' neck. "My idiot."

Remus allowed it for a moment before he pulled away. "Do you really make me mad so I'll scrunch up my nose?"


	25. RegulusRabastan II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **AN - I play fast and loose with ages here, so fair warning.**

 **Written for;** Button Bonanza, Yellow 15, Slytherin Common Room _and_ Angel's Arcade, 12. Ebenezer Von Clutch - Green / Rabastan / Slytherin

 **Word Count** \- 316

* * *

 **Yours (Mine)**

* * *

You sit in the Common Room, your eyes on the younger boy in the corner. He's only a fourth year, and you're a seventh, and you have no reason to approach him but _you want to._

You thought, for a moment, that you could offer him help with the homework he's working on, but that's madness. Why would you bother? You're not exactly known for being _nice._

It would certainly raise questions that you've got no interest in answering.

You watch Snape, greasy shit that he is, approach the boy, and you can barely contain your glare. Snape shouldn't be sniffing around him, even if he is only in the year above.

You're practically as green as the stripes on your tie when the boy looks up at him and smiles, his eyes alight as he invites Snape to sit down at the small table. There will be trouble if Snape starts sniffing around the boy.

You try and look away, try and occupy yourself elsewhere, but your eyes always migrate back to the boy.

You can see he's getting tired, and you want to pick him up and cradle him against your chest, let him sleep peacefully in your arms.

You don't know what it is about him that makes you want to… own him, but you crave him and you have done for months.

Everything he does makes you want him. The way he scowls, the way he smiles, the way he laughs and they way he walks.

He's temptation, wrapped up in a tiny gorgeous package. You know some of the other's in Slytherin House covet him, even those in your year, but you'll chase them all away, one after the other.

You smirk, just as he looks up and meets your eyes. His blush just makes you want him more, and one day… One way or another, Regulus Black will be yours.


	26. DeanSeamus II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for** ; Buttons Bonanza, 9. DeanSeamus

 **Word Count;** 457

* * *

 **I Missed You**

* * *

Seamus wondered. He wondered where Dean was, what he was doing, if he was even - Nope. Not finishing that sentence. He wondered if Dean was still sketching, if he was in hiding with his mum and little sister, if he was still able to go to football games.

He wondered if he'd made new friends wherever he was, if he'd even - Nope. Not finishing that thought either, because Seamus couldn't stand to think of Dean with anyone else.

Not when he should be here, with Seamus.

…

"Dean," Seamus gasped. He ran forward, pleased when Dean immediately moved to hug him back. They clung to each other for a long moment, Seamus taking the time to inhale the familiar smell of Dean.

It felt so _right_ to be back in his arms again. Right where he belonged.

"How are you doing, baby?" Dean asked, leaning back so he could see Seamus' face more clearly. He tutted over Seamus' many wounds, but Seamus wasn't in any pain at all, too happy to be with Dean to worry about the cuts and bruises that littered his skin.

"I'm so happy to see you," he replied, pulling Dean closer once more.

They stood together, relearning the feel of one another again until the plans were finalised by the others.

"Are you ready for this?" Dean asked, taking his hand in a firm grip.

Seamus grinned. "I am. Stay beside me, okay?"

"I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again," Dean promised.

…

They split up. Not by choice, but the spells flying were finding them easier when they were attached to one another, and in the melee, they lost each other.

Once it was all over, Seamus searched frantically, to no avail.

He was so tired, so sore, and so worried, but he just couldn't move anymore. Hoping that Dean would come and find him, he headed to the tower, to the bed he'd slept on for seven years, and prayed that when he woke, Dean would be by his side.

…

"Baby, move over."

Seamus blinked awake, startled. When he looked to the side, it was to find Dean, bloodied and bruised, trying to slide into the bed.

Seamus shifted over, careful not to fall off the other side, and Dean lay down beside him, pulling Seamus against his chest.

"Merlin, I'm so glad you're safe," Dean murmured into his hair.

"Where were you?" Seamus asked. "I looked for you."

"I was in Hogsmeade, helping them search for… well. I wanted to come back, but they needed help and -"

"I get it," Seamus promised. "Sleep now. I love you. I'm so glad you're here, Dean."

"I love you too. I missed you, Baby."

"I missed you too."


	27. AbraxasDruella II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10. Muggle Music, task 2. Write about someone running into an ex._

 **Word Count** \- 688

 _Beta'd by Amber and Sam_

Warning for mentions of Adultery

* * *

 **Longing For You**

* * *

She held onto Cygnus' arm, her hand wrapped delicately around his elbow as he led her from shop to shop. She'd been surprised when he'd agreed to accompany her on her shopping trip. Usually, he had more important things to do than 'entertain' his wife.

She stayed by his side, waiting patiently when he ran into acquaintances that drew him into conversations better suited to an office or private study.

Shivering, Druella pulled her cloak tighter around herself. She barely managed to stop herself from tapping her foot impatiently when Cygnus launched into another conversation.

Finally, he said goodbye and they continued on their way through the alley.

Druella listened to Cygnus' words of self importance as he boasted about the people he spoke to after they walked away, telling her all about how _he_ had done them favours, about how they _owed him._

She supposed he thought it would impress her.

He was wrong.

A flash of blond across the way caught her attention, and she looked up, freezing in place when she met the ashy grey eyes of Abraxas Malfoy.

Cygnus looked down at her to see why she'd stopped and then followed her gaze. He stiffened beneath her arm, and she looked away from Abraxas quickly.

She knew that Cygnus knew of her prior relationship with the other man, and she knew he wasn't happy about it. Cygnus Black was possessive beyond reason at times.

"Look, honey, wouldn't Narcissa just love that dress?" She asked, pointing to a dress in the shop window on the opposite side of the Alley to where Abraxas stood.

Cygnus barely glanced at it before he was approaching Abraxas instead. Druella was tugged along, stumbling slightly on the way.

Abraxas' eyes narrowed and she glared at him.

"Cygnus," Abraxas greeted, when they arrived in front of him. "Dru."

Cygnus' eyes flashed a warning at the nickname.

"Mr Malfoy," Druella returned stiffly, turning her head away.

"Abraxas," Cygnus murmured, offering his hand in greeting. Druella didn't need to watch to know that Abraxas' hand would be white with the pressure of Cygnus' grip. "What brings you out to Diagon today?"

Abraxas smirked. "Christmas shopping, of course," he replied, his eyes on Druella. "Isn't that why we're all out today?"

Cygnus nodded thoughtfully. "How old is your boy now?"

"Seven," Abraxas replied, swallowing hard. "How are your girls?"

"They are lovely young ladies," Cygnus replied smugly. "Narcissa in particular is blooming into a beautiful child."

Abraxas nodded. "And you, Druella?"

"I'm well," she replied, almost choking on the words. Cygnus looked at her sharply, and she continued, "Cygnus makes sure we are all happy."

Before anyone could say anything else, Acanthia, Abraxas' wife, exited the shop Abraxas had been standing outside of. Greetings were exchanged, and Druella didn't miss the possessive grip she took of her husband's hand, nor did she miss the cold look in her eyes when she greeted Druella.

"We should catch up properly," Cygnus said, when Acanthia prompted Abraxas to accompany her to her next destination. "I'd rather like to speak with you regarding a betrothal. Narcissa deserves the best, after all."

Druella couldn't contain her flinch and she looked at Abraxas with wide eyes, begging him silently to refuse.

He didn't.

Five minutes later, Cygnus lead Druella into the shop with the dress she'd tried to use as a distraction.

"Something you'd like to tell me, Dear?" he asked her, a calculating look in his eyes. "You don't seem to be too enthused at the idea of Narcissa being betrothed to the young Malfoy."

He knew. Druella knew he did.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "Of course not, Cygnus. You know I'm happy to follow your lead on these things."

He nodded. "Just so."

…

Druella stared at the canopy of their bed that night. Cygnus snored beside her, but she found sleep unattainable.

Memories of Abraxas assaulted her mind, leaving her with an ache in her heart and a vague feeling of longing when she thought about the last time she'd seen him.

Three weeks before she'd found herself pregnant for the third time.


	28. RegulusRabastan III

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10. Muggle Music, Task 6; Write about a snowy Christmas._

 **Word Count** \- 607

 _Beta'd by Sam_

* * *

 **All I Want For Christmas**

* * *

"You know, just one year, I want to see a snowy Christmas," Regulus complained, leaning back against Rabastan's chest.

Rabastan chuckled. "It snowed last week."

"It wasn't Christmas last week, was it?" Regulus sneered. "Look, one minute left of Christmas, and it's been dull as dishwater all day. Not a single snowflake to be seen."

"It snowed on Christmas a few years ago," Rabastan said, his nose wrinkling slightly as he thought. "And it happened quite a few times when _I_ was still at Hogwarts, so you must have had snow when you were a kid?"

Regulus nodded. "I… my best memories were when I was little and it snowed on Christmas. Mum and Dad, they always relaxed a bit, you know? I think, probably because they were recovering from all the parties, they were a little hungover and didn't really care what Sirius and I were doing. I remember, I think I was about seven, Sirius and I snuck outside and had the best snowball fight. And another year, there was even enough snow to make a snowman."

He shook his head and chuckled as Rabastan rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. He knew Regulus had a hard time thinking about his brother. Even now, when they were as far apart as it was possible to be, a small part of Regulus still craved Sirius' affection.

Rabastan thought that that was why he hated Sirius so much; he knew how much the man had hurt Regulus when he'd left without looking back.

"I just… snow always meant fun when I was younger."

"Well," Rabastan murmured, pressing kisses to Regulus' neck. "Maybe we can make 'dull as dishwater' mean fun too? How about if I promise every time we have an un-snowy Christmas, I spend the whole day making love to you on the rug in front of the fire?"

Regulus tilted his head up, a small smile on his face. "How about you do that anyway?"

…

"What's going on with you?" Rabastan asked, fighting to keep his tone even. It was far too tempting to rage and shout.

"Nothing," Regulus replied coldly. "Go back to bed."

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on, Reg!"

"I don't need your help!"

"Are you sure about that? Because from where I'm standing you need all the help you can get! What the hell was that today with the Dark Lord? You're lucky he didn't _kill you!"_

"Am I?" Regulus asked softly. "Death might've been a mercy, Rabastan. I don't know how much more I can take."

Rabastan's heart clenched in his chest and he took an uncertain step forward. "Reg…"

Regulus shook his head. "Ignore me," he muttered. "Just… the weather is dull as dishwater, Rab. You've got a promise to keep."

"I thought that only counted on Christmas?"

"Just for tonight. Please. Just… make me forget."

"Forget what?" Rabastan asked, stepping forward and pulling Regulus against his chest.

"Everything."

…

"I… I have to go out for a bit," Regulus murmured against Rabastan's cheek.

The older man grumbled, blinking his eyes open sleepily. "Where?"

"A job for the Dark Lord. I'll… I'll be back in the morning, okay?"

"Hmm," Rabastan agreed, his eyes already falling closed. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby. So much."

Rabastan pursed his lips for a sloppy kiss and then dropped back into sleep.

…

Rabastan stared out of the window at the falling snow. He checked the clock repeatedly, watching as the hands neared midnight.

As they struck the hour, and then moved past it, Rabastan smiled at the falling snow.

"There you go, Reg. A snowy Christmas."

There was no reply.


	29. PercyOliver II

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10. Careers Advice, Task 3: Write about someone looking through a photo album._

 **Word Count** \- 1015

 _Beta'd by Amber_

* * *

 **Teach Me How**

* * *

The whisky shone amber in the light of the fire. Percy shivered despite the warmth in the room, his hand shaking slightly as he wiped the dust from the top of the photo album. He hadn't looked at these photos for years.

He'd only found them now because he'd been packing his home up.

The first page he opened to was a picture of his siblings and him, in Egypt. His dad had taken the photo, and it was only later that Percy realised the twins were pulling faces behind his back.

He'd been in such a huff when he saw it.

Looking at it now, Percy can't help but linger over Fred, the playful glint in his eyes, the happiness on his face.

Percy had taken that happiness for granted. He'd complained about that happiness even, had wanted Fred and George to be more serious, to stop being so… them.

It was just another regret on a long list.

He flipped through the pages, reliving memories long put to the back of his mind. He lingered over some more than others, remembering moments that should be happy, but were now tinged with remorse.

He should have been better.

His family deserved better than he'd given them. He'd tried, after the war, after Fred… he'd tried, but he couldn't…

He didn't know how to comfort and be there for people. He didn't know how to drop the carefully crafted walls around him. They'd been there for so long, he didn't know how to begin dismantling them.

He'd tried, and he'd failed and he hadn't seen his family for months because he didn't know how to be around other people and make them happy.

The closer he got to the back of the photo album, the less he smiled in the photos. He could see the tightness in his eyes on each page, could see the tension in his frame gaining more with each snap of the camera.

Even the photos with Oliver, the man he _should_ have been relaxed with, were tense and uncertain, fake smiles and closed off body language.

No wonder Oliver had decided he couldn't stay.

Percy hadn't given him any reason to.

As though called by Percy's thoughts, the front door to the home the two had shared for a little over a year opened.

Percy slammed the photo album shut, throwing it into the open box on the living room floor. He picked up his whisky tumbler and cradled it between both hands, hoping that having something in them would stop him from reaching for Oliver as soon as he entered the room.

Moments later, footsteps down the hall sounded and the door creaked a little as it opened.

Oliver cleared his throat when Percy didn't greet him. "Hi."

"Hi," Percy replied quietly, never looking away from his glass. "I… I didn't think you'd be here yet. I'll be done packing soon."

Oliver sighed deeply. "You do know that this… this wasn't what I wanted, right?"

Percy looked up when Oliver rounded the sofa to stand between Percy and the fire.

"I'm pretty sure 'I can't live this way anymore' was a pretty clear hint," Percy murmured. "I don't… I don't blame you, Oliver. I really don't. You deserve… you deserve more."

"So give me more, Perce!" Oliver said, his frustration clear. "I want more, but I want more from _you!_ Why don't you understand that? You're so closed off all the time, Percy, and I just… I need to know that you love me."

"I don't know how to be anything else," Percy admitted, his words little more than a whisper.

"Just let me in," Oliver begged, dropping to his knees in front of Percy. He took the glass from Percy's hands and placed it carefully on the table. Taking Percy's hands in his own, Oliver looked up at him, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Percy."

Percy looked into Oliver's eyes and then closed his own. His heart hurt, his head hurt, everything hurt. He didn't want to lose Oliver, not the way he'd already lost his family but he didn't know _how_ to do this.

"I do love you," he stuttered out eventually. "I do, Ollie."

Oliver's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Percy tried hard not to cringe away. He didn't know how to deal with tears. He looked away.

"I…" he stopped, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts. He had to find a way to explain this so that Oliver could understand that _he_ wasn't the problem. "I bury myself in work, because work _makes sense._ It's facts, and figures, and I understand them. People… people are hard, Ollie. People are unpredictable, and I don't… I don't understand emotions very well, and I never know what to say or what to do, I never know what people want from me and-"

He was cut off when Oliver squeezed his hand.

"All I want from you is you," he said. "I just… I need to know that you're here with me, you know? That you're in this relationship as much as I am?"

Percy nodded jerkily. "I can try."

Oliver smiled and pushed up onto his knees to press a soft kiss to Percy's lips. "Then maybe stop packing, okay?"

Percy nodded again, head spinning.

Leaning over, he grasped the photo album and opened it to the back few pictures, showing them to Oliver.

"I don't… I don't want to be _this_ anymore," he said, pointing at a photo of the two of them. Oliver looked vibrant and happy, his eyes shining, his smile wide. He looked… open. Percy stood beside him, angled slightly away, stiff and unfeeling and barely attempting a smile.

He looked… miserable.

"You can be whoever you want to be, Perce," Oliver replied, eyes on the photo. "You just have to… let go."

Percy hesitantly raised his hand and cupped Oliver's cheek, filling with warmth when Oliver leant into the touch immediately.

"Teach me how?"

Turning to press a kiss to Percy's palm, Oliver nodded. "It would be my pleasure."


	30. PercyOliver III

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10, Religious Studies, Task 8: Write about finding comfort in something/someone._

 **Word Count** \- 783

 _Beta'd by_ Sam

* * *

 **The Long And Short Of It**

* * *

Oliver showered quickly, redressing in jeans and a t-shirt. The team were going out for drinks but he really wasn't in the mood. Pulling Percy's hoodie on that he'd stashed in his locker long ago for when he needed a pick-me-up, he left the changing room.

Percy was waiting for him, as Oliver knew he would be. He silently wrapped an arm around Olivers waist and walked him through the crowds, keeping a tight grip on him. As soon as they were at the Apparition point, Percy wrapped his arms completely around Oliver and Disapparated on the spot.

They arrived seconds later outside of Oliver's favourite restaurant. Percy pressed a kiss to Oliver's temple and ducked inside, returning moments later with a delicious smelling feast wrapped up to go.

Percy held out a hand to Oliver and they Apparated home together, Percy holding the bag securely as he led the way inside. He deposited Oliver on the sofa and left the room. Oliver knew that within ten minutes, Percy would be back with steaming plates of lovely food, Oliver's favourite red wine, and he'd have a stack of blankets and pillows for them to arrange a nest to bunker down in.

It was a routine that they thankfully didn't have to repeat very often, but Percy practiced it with the ease of someone who knew exactly what was needed of them. Oliver loved that about him.

He _hated_ losing.

It wasn't even the failure of the team; it was deeper than that. Even though Oliver had played well, it still felt like a _personal_ failure. It felt like he hadn't been good enough, even when logically, he knew that the loss had little to do with him at all.

The Harpies Seeker had got a lucky catch. Oliver hadn't even let a goal in. He knew _logically_ that this wasn't his fault, but he still felt like he'd let himself and everyone else down.

Sure enough, while Oliver brooded on the couch, Percy had made himself busy. The blankets and pillows arrived first, and on the floor, Percy set them up the best kind of den.

He paused to press a soft kiss to Oliver's lips and then handed him his favourite sweats, telling him gently to change and get comfortable. Almost as soon as Oliver had settled in his usual spot, Percy was coming back with plates and glasses floating around him, the half full bottle of wine bobbing behind him.

Oliver's lips twitched at the sight, and Percy wrinkled his nose at him, dislodging his square glasses.

Percy let the plates and glasses float down onto the floor, the glasses still hovering slightly so they didn't tip over. He disappeared for another minute, coming back in his own sweats and one of Oliver's t-shirts.

"I love you," he said as he sat down. "And you played beautifully."

Oliver swallowed hard. "I love you too."

And the truth of it was, this right here was a big part of why Oliver loved Percy so much. Without even having to say a thing, Percy always knew when Oliver was going to need their comfort ritual.

Even when it wasn't so obvious, such as a lost Quidditch game, it would only take one look for Percy to know that Oliver needed him.

It had been that way for so long, Oliver didn't know what he'd do without Percy now.

They ate quietly, clearing their plates, before Percy levitated them into the kitchen to be dealt with later. Percy tugged Oliver close, lying them both back against the veritable mountain of pillows, before he pulled the closest blankets over them, right up to Oliver's chin.

Oliver settled against Percy's chest, the sound of Percy's steady heart instantly making him relax. To know that Percy was there, beneath him, surrounding him, it always made Oliver feel better. Percy ran a hand through Oliver's messy hair in a continuous motion that didn't take long to lull Oliver into drowsiness.

So many times over the years, woman and men alike had approached Oliver for one night stands, for shady kisses in alleys, and the promise of whatever Oliver wanted. It was a consequence of being a professional athlete. Not once had Oliver ever been tempted to accept any of the offers, and this, right here, was one of the main reasons.

Percy _got_ him.

That was the long and short of it.

Percy was everything that Oliver had ever needed, and everything he'd never known he needed as well.

"Thank you," he murmured sleepily, pressing his lips to Percy's chest.

Percy didn't reply, though the arm around his back tightened. Oliver closed his eyes, secure in Percy's arms.


	31. HarryRonHermione

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for; Hogwarts Assignment 10, Law and Government Task 4: Write about someone feeling left out._

 **Word Count** \- 513

* * *

 **To Be Left Aside (To Be Loved)**

* * *

They fall asleep holding hands.

They try to hide it from you, but you notice anyway. Mostly because when you wake up in the night, sweating and panting and _alone,_ they're still holding hands.

 _It makes you feel… empty._

They sit together, and they whisper behind their hands when they think you're not looking and they talk as though you're not there.

 _It makes you feel… lonely._

When Ron leaves, you try to help Hermione feel better, but you can't. It's not you she wants, it's never been you that she's wanted, and you've long accepted that. But, for now, you're all she's got and when she smiles it's at you.

 _It makes you feel… guilty._

Ron tries so hard when he comes back. He tries to win her favour, he tries to make it up to you without saying sorry, because' he's never been good at saying sorry and that's okay. For a while, it's the three of you against the world.

 _It makes you feel… wanted._

You walk to your death with your parents at your side, and you think of the two of them. They'll have each other, and you're glad about that. As much as you hate being a third wheel, you're happy that they have each other.

 _It makes you feel… relieved._

You live and you win and it's over.

 _You don't know how to feel about that._

You try so hard to make it work with Ginny. You go on dates, you kiss her and you hug her, and you hold her hand when she cries with grief and anger, and you hate it because you don't… you don't look at her the way Ron looks at Hermione.

 _It makes you feel… resentful._

Ginny leaves you, and you don't blame her. She promises you can be friends, and oddly you believe her, because this whole time you've been more like friends than lovers. Ron and Hermione comfort you, but they're holding hands and you want a love like theirs.

 _It makes you feel… isolated._

Hermione kisses you. Her lips are gentle on yours and your hands rest at her waist automatically, but this is wrongwrongwrong because Hermione is Ron's. Except, Ron is there, and his lips are rougher than Hermione's, chapped and firmer and maybe, maybe it isn't wrong if it's both of them.

 _It makes you feel… confused._

They want you. They both want you. You don't have to be a third wheel anymore, because they want you to hold their hands, to go on dates with them and to share their bed. You… you can be a part of something. They say that you were always meant to be together, the three of you. You believe them.

 _It makes you feel… happy._

You're familiar with feeling left out. It's happened all of your life, and you're used to it. You get pushed aside, unwanted and unnecessary.

Now though… now you're held close. You're wanted and needed, and you love it. Ron and Hermione hold your hands when you fall asleep.

 _It makes you feel… loved._


	32. RosmertaKingsley

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10. Religious Education, Task 10: Write about a post-war celebration._

 **Word Count** \- 706

 _Beta'd by Sophie_

* * *

 **Welcome Words**

* * *

Rosmerta served as quickly as she could, pouring drink after drink after drink but she was struggling to keep up with the demand. It wouldn't be too long before she ran out of drinks to sell.

The pub was filled to bursting. There were many of those who had fought in the last battle at the school, and even more of their family members who'd come to make sure that they had survived. So many parents had shown up in Hogsmeade, panicking over their children, only to migrate to the Three Broomsticks when they were reunited.

Even as the celebration gained ground, there was an undercurrent of grief and anger. Rosmerta could feel the potential for violence as much as she could tell that nobody would actually fight.

They were all so tired of fighting.

For only the second time since she'd first opened the pub, Rosmerta paid no mind to the time. The last time she'd kept the pub open passed closing time had been when You-Know-Who had been defeated the first time. She hoped this would be the last time for this particular tradition.

When the supplies were running low, she sent a patronus to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, asking if he was as busy as she was, and if he could perhaps spare a few barrels. He arrived in minutes with two of his staff, each of them carrying full barrels and a few bottles of wine and spirits a piece.

"I could kiss you," she murmured, as he helped her to attach them.

He grinned his familiar toothless grin. "Would you like me to stay and help man the bar for a while? You look tired, m'dear."

"You're a real life angel." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

With Tom on the bar, Rosmerta took a moment to do a round of the pub, collecting glasses and empty bottles from the tables. She spoke to the many people she knew, dreading them giving her the names of those who hadn't made it through the fight.

Each one was like a stab to her gut.

She may not have known many of these people well, but they were her customers. Each and every one of them had passed through the doors of the Three Broomsticks before, and that made them important.

Sometime after three in the morning, Rosmerta felt arms wrap around her from behind. She leant back against a broad chest and tilted her head to smile at the newcomer.

"Hey you," she murmured, sagging slightly. She trusted him to hold her up.

"Hey yourself," Kingsley replied quietly. "How are you doing?"

"Tired," she admitted. "Numb. So many people are—"

"—I know," he said, kissing her head. "I know. There's… so much to do."

"Plenty to celebrate too, of course," she added. "He's gone, we're alive. That's something to be happy about."

Kingsley nodded. "It'll be easier to appreciate that once everything has sunk in, I suppose. For now, all I want is a hot bath, a comfortable bed, and a cuddle with the woman I love."

Rosmerta smiled. "That sounds like heaven. It's been far too long since you've been in my bed, Shacklebolt."

His head dropped to nuzzle against her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you were left to deal with this alone."

"Hey. Hey, none of that," she reprimanded lightly. "I managed perfectly well, and you're _here,_ Kingsley. You kept yourself alive for me. That's all I wanted, you know?"

Tom approached them, and Rosmerta held a hand out for his, squeezing it gratefully. "Thanks for all your help, Tom."

"Anytime, Miss Rosie. I'm going to go home now, I imagine my place will receive quite the same as you did this eve, once the news spreads properly."

"You let me know if I can return the favour," she said, squeezing his hand once more before she dropped it. She looked over the bar at the few stragglers.

"Go and run the bath," she told Kingsley, pulling away from him. "I'll be there soon. The clean up can wait until morning."

Leaning forward, Kingsley pressed his lips to hers in a light kiss. "I'll be waiting."

Rosmerta didn't think she'd ever heard more welcome words.


	33. SeamusNarcissa

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 1719**

* * *

 **My Pleasure**

* * *

He hated these things. He came, because it was frowned upon to avoid an invitation personally issues by the Minister for Magic, but he hated them.

He hated the robes, he hated the pretentious assholes that stalked around the large ballrooms, he hated the food, he hated the _champagne._ He was a normal lad from Ireland; give him a pint over a glass of bubbly any day.

More than all of that though, he hated the feeling that he just didn't belong there. Seamus worked hard as a healer, and he loved his job, but he was… just Seamus. He enjoyed nights out with his friends, and nights in front of the telly in his boxers after a long shift. He enjoyed sleeping in, and going grocery shopping just because he felt like it.

Many of the people at these events were snobby assholes that only deigned to even look at him because he'd been branded as one of the war heroes from the final battle. Of course, Harry and Ron and Hermione and Neville were all here too, along with many others from their year, but they like him were often pulled into conversations they didn't want to be having with people who only talked to them because they were the flavour of the hour.

Seamus offered an awkward apology to the man currently talking his ear off and walked away, making his way out onto one of the balconies for a sneaky cigarette. Smoking was a terrible habit, he knew that he was a _healer,_ but it helped to settle his shaking hands, and tempered his frustration.

The night air was soothing, and he looked up at the sky. The stars always made him feel small, insignificant, but not in a bad way. He had so many memories of being a child with his mum and dad pointing out the different constellations on their many camping trips.

When he'd started Hogwarts, it hadn't taken him long to realise that his parents had made shit up to amuse him, but the memories still made him smile. Perhaps even more so, because of that.

He startled when he heard heels clipping on the floor, and he turned to see a woman slipping through the doors onto the balcony.

"Oh. I apologise, I didn't realise anyone was out here," she said stiffly, turning to leave.

"There's plenty of room," Seamus offered quietly. He recognised the woman, of course he did, but he recognised the lost and frustrated look in her eyes even more.

She hesitated for a moment before she cautiously walked forward, pulling her black shawl tighter around her shoulders. The silence was awkward, and Seamus wanted to speak to her, but he didn't know what to say.

"I saw you," she murmured, saving him the bother. "Inside. You looked about as comfortable in the ballroom as I feel, and that's certainly saying something."

Seamus' lips tilted up slightly. "I'm a simple man, ma'am. These fancy parties… they're not really for me."

"Narcissa, please."

"Seamus," he replied. "I would have thought you'd be used to such occasions. Being… who you are."

She chuckled lowly. "Being who I _was,_ perhaps," she agreed. "But since the war, well, I do not know why I still receive the invitations."

"You saved Harry's life."

"To save the life of my son, yes," she agreed. "It wasn't a selfless act, by any means."

"It doesn't change that you did it."

Narcissa sighed. She looked at him for a moment and then looked through the windows to the ball inside. "It is ridiculous how we cling to each noel, even now, when our world is war torn and crumbling. The people in there, they laugh and joke and smile, as though Christmas simply makes life better just by being."

"Tis the season of goodwill," Seamus said after a pause. "And aside from that, I think people are going to cling to anything that could possibly be something happy. It's only been a few years, and Christmas, it makes the losses even more obvious."

Narcissa turned her gaze back on him. "So young, and yet, you speak words of those much older than you. I suppose that is an effect of the world you grew up in. Draco is much the same."

"I was younger than I am now when I fought a war. It ages you. It doesn't matter the side, everybody suffered because of the actions of one mad man, and I expect we're all going to be paying the price for many more years to come."

Narcissa didn't seem to have a reply, and Seamus looked back to the stars. He should probably return to the ball, but he didn't have the energy. Instead, he lit another cigarette with his wand and silently cast a charm to contain the smell.

From the corner of his eye, he watched a single tear roll down Narcissa's face. He wanted to offer her comfort, but he didn't know how. He didn't know if his touch would be appreciated, and he didn't really have the words to ask what would make her feel better because he was quite sure that nothing _could_ make her feel better.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, after putting his cigarette out.

She blinked at him, surprised. "I… thank you for the offer, Seamus, but I think I'm going to leave. I have no wish to draw more attention to myself this eve."

He smiled slowly and approached her, offering his hand. "I didn't say we had to return to the ballroom," he coaxed. When she took his hand, he spun her gently and then pulled her close, swaying them to the echo of the music they could hear from inside.

She was tense under his touch, but as the minutes passed by, she relaxed slowly, even pushing closer against him.

"It's been so long since I was touched with tenderness," she admitted, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Everyone needs someone," Seamus murmured. "Human touch is an essential part of life."

Narcissa laughed bitterly. "My ex-husband is in Azkaban, and my son is on the continent, trying to make a life for himself away from the stigma of the mark that will forever taint his skin. I have no one and nothing."

"Then perhaps," Seamus said, spinning her out and pulling her back towards him, "It's time to start living for yourself."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin. My whole life has been about my family."

"Find something that sparks your passion and follow it," Seamus whispered. "Something that gives you butterflies, something that makes you _want._ Find something that makes you _happy."_

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not easy, but I promise, it's worth it."

The music inside drew to a close, and the two of them parted. Seamus reached a hand up to tuck a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "Good luck, Narcissa."

She turned away from her and made it all the way to the doors before she called his name.

"Seamus?"

He looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

…

Seamus hated these events. He'd managed to avoid the midyear ball by being out of the country, but when the Christmas Ball invitation came into his lap via owl, he knew he'd have to attend.

Granted, he thought to himself as he accepted a drink from a passing house elf, last year hadn't been so bad. He hadn't seen Narcissa since then, but he'd heard through the grapevine that she'd opened a _bakery_ of all things, and from the comments of the staff at the hospital, a damn good one at that.

Seamus greeted his friends, and for the first time at one of these events, they were actually left alone to socialise amongst themselves for the first half of the night. Seamus wasn't even craving a cigarette, and he'd been so sure that tonight would end his three months of being nicotine free.

A hand tapped on his shoulder, and he turned to find Narcissa standing before him, a vision in red.

"Narcissa," he greeted, reaching for her hand almost automatically. He kissed the back of her hand and she smiled at him.

"Dance with me?" she requested, nodding to the dancefloor.

Seamus grinned. "After you, milady."

They joined the couples on the floor, falling into the sway of the music easily.

"I wanted to thank you," Narcissa murmured. "Last year… you helped me, I think more than you could possibly know. You helped me… you helped me to decide to keep living. To keep trying."

"From what I've heard, it seems you've had a rather successful year," Seamus replied, smiling at her. "The nurses are forever praising your cakes and biscuits in the break room."

"I thought, I _hoped_ , you might come in to the bakery," she said quietly. "So I could thank you properly."

"No thanks necessary," he assured her. "I'm happy for you. Truly."

"Then perhaps you'll come and visit me regardless," she said after a moment. "You could taste test some of my newer recipes."

Seamus nodded. He wasn't quite sure if the invitation was friendly, or if it was _friendly_. While he couldn't help but hope for the latter, Narcissa was gorgeous after all, he knew that he was very much punching above his weight with her.

She was a lady, and he was… well. Just Seamus.

"I'd like that," he said, hoping that his reply was safe no matter which way her invitation was intended.

The look in his eyes told him that she thought he was being an oblivious idiot and he felt hope rising that perhaps it was more than just wanting a friendly face around.

"I should like to get some air," Narcissa said when the song ended. "Join me on the balcony?"

"Of course." Seamus offered her his arm, which she readily accepted, and the left the dancefloor.

At the balcony doors, Seamus glanced up and smirked. "Mistletoe," he murmured, nodding his head up at it.

Narcissa's cheeks coloured lightly, but she raised her eyebrow at him. "You don't need mistletoe to kiss me, Seamus. Perhaps just a stronger hint that I've already waited a year for you. Don't make me wait any longer."

"It would be my absolute pleasure."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation; 2. Friendly

Disney; S7. "Everyone needs someone."

Cookie's Corner; 4. Snickers. Two things that shouldn't go together, working.

Book Club; The Lady on the Grey. Dancing / Promise / Helping make an important decision

Showtime; 27. Champagne

Lyric Alley; 5. How we cling to each noel

Em's Emporium; 8. Ball/Party

Angel's Arcade; 8. Luz. Heels / Nighttime / Smoking

Bex's Basement; 22. Jen - Narcissa

Southern Funfair; Mistletoe - SeamusNarcissa

Eastern Funfair - Paper Snowflakes; 80. Young


	34. GeorgeKingsley

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count** \- 1286

 _Warning for fairly graphic descriptions of torture. Oops?_

* * *

 **you are my life now**

* * *

He can still hear the swishing of Bellatrix Lestrange's dress on the floor, masked only by her cackle as she waved her wand around, causing destruction. He can still see a masked monster running his father through with a _sword, b_ ecause simply killing him would be too much to ask, they had to make it _hurt_.

Everytime George closed his eyes, he was assaulted with the other half of himself being burned alive. Fred hadn't stood a chance, but George was frozen while Fred was burned and he was forced to _watch_.

This was a sport for them now. Finding people who'd fought against them and torturing them until they were begging for death.

Kingsley had saved him. George wished he hadn't, because he was alone now and he'd rather be dead and with his family than alone in a world that he'd never be safe in.

How long would he be forced to hide in abandoned buildings, covered in dust and cobwebs? How long would he feel hunger gnawing at him, because they hadn't managed to get enough food to feed everyone?

Everyone… the word was almost laughable for the few people left amongst them. The Order of the Phoenix, the best hope against Voldemort, and they were finished. Not a single one amongst them had the will, or the ability, to fight anymore.

Everyday was about surviving. George counted down the days until he could just… stop.

…

"It's snowing!"

George ignored the cheerful words, burrowing himself deeper under the threadbare blanket he had. It was thin and filled with holes, but it offered a little bit of shelter from the cold. George felt the cold more these days. He thought being literally trapped in ice had something to do with it, but none of them could think of a cure.

Winter had set in, and with it, George had to deal with a constant tremble, his jaw aching from his chattering teeth, his bones aching with the cold.

He watched them crowding around the grimy window of the hovel they'd moved to when their last place had been found. He wanted to be amongst them, to feel something other than the constant anger and sadness that followed him around, but he _couldn't._

He couldn't find joy in the simple things anymore.

Once, he'd have loved to see the snowfall. He'd have already been wrapped up in one of his mother's hand knitted scarves, throwing snowballs at his siblings. He'd have been rolling up a snowman while Fred searched out the perfect carrot for the nose.

He'd have been having fun.

"Hey."

George looked up to see Kingsley towering over him, a thicker blanket in his hands. He bent down to wrap it over George, before he sat down beside him.

"How are you doing?" Kingsley asked, his even calming tone soothing to George. It had been, ever since he'd first woken up to find himself the last of his family still breathing.

George shrugged, leaning over so that he was pressed close to Kingsley's side. The man _radiated_ heat, even in the cold of winter.

"It's almost midnight. Almost Christmas."

George nodded. "It… It's almost been a year," he said, his words choked and shaky. "But it still hurts like it happened yesterday. Is it ever… will it ever stop hurting?"

"It's always going to hurt," Kingsley said softly. "But it will, hopefully, get easier to manage. One day, you'll be able to smile again, George. Hold on to that."

"I just… I still feel so _angry_ all the time."

"That's understandable too, you know? There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling George. The devotion you have for your family is part of what makes you human."

Tears slid down George's face and he let them fall.

Kingsley simply pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him, blankets and all.

…

Kingsley handed him a packet of biscuits and then took the scarf from round his own neck and wrapped it carefully around George's.

They were listening to the others singing Christmas carols. It wasn't the most _harmonious_ thing George had ever heard, but he thought that perhaps that just made it better. It brought back memories of his mother trying to organise them all into a mini choir and the chaos that usually followed.

"You're smiling," Kingsley murmured, his eyes bright.

George looked down at his hands and then back up to meet Kingsley's eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

"It's a good look on you."

George felt his cheeks heat and Kingsley chuckled lowly.

"You're mean," George muttered, though the smile didn't leave his face.

"Uh huh," Kingsley agreed. "And you're adorable."

"Shut up."

…

"How many more people are they going to take from me?" George raged, screaming at the sky. "How much more do you expect me to take?!"

Kingsley was missing. Had been for three days, along with Tonks.

Tonks had returned, and the look on her face had told George all he needed to say. He'd left the shack unwilling to hear the details. He had enough nightmare fodder to last him ten lifetimes and he really didn't need any more.

He'd thought… he'd hoped…

Kingsley had been George's anchor, his guiding light, his living angel. He'd been the one to keep George going, the one to hold him up when George didn't have the strength to hold himself up.

Without him, George didn't have a clue how he was going to even make it through a day.

…

He had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation for it, because George was warm. A body was pressed up against him, and strong arms were clutching him to a steadily moving chest.

George blinked his eyes open, surprised to find himself in his usual corner of the shack. Surely his imagination could have stretched to a nicer room and a bed?

"You're not dreaming, sweetheart."

George blinked. He knew that voice. He knew that voice and it hurt, because the reality was that he'd never hear that voice again.

He yelped when a large hand wrapped around his arm and pinched at his skin.

"That hurt, you fucker!" he muttered and then froze.

 _It hurt._

"How?" he croaked, pulling back to look into warm brown eyes. "How are you here?"

"I'm pretty good at escaping," Kingsley murmured, stroking George's face. "Couldn't leave you, could I?"

George didn't have words. He reached for Kingsley, pressing as close to him as he could. "I thought, I thought-"

"I know. I'm sorry."

George shook his head. "I… no. Thank you. For coming back, thank you."

"We're leaving today," Kingsley told him softly. "We… we're going to get out of the country, head for the continent. Nobody wants to give up, but we're being picked off one by one and, well, this isn't living, George. I want to live. I want you to live."

George nodded. "You'll stay with me though, right? You're not going to…"

"Of course I'll stay with you. For as long as you want."

George pulled back enough to look up at Kingsley. He'd known this was where they were heading, had thought that he'd lost the chance for this. He pushed up, pressing his lips to Kingsley's.

Kingsley kissed him back immediately, his fingers trailing up George's neck and into his red hair.

George shivered, for once not because of the cold. Kingsley chuckled against his lips and George smiled.

"I love you," he whispered.

"You are my life now," Kingsley replied, resting his lips against George's temple.

Whatever happened, George knew that he'd be able to keep going as long as Kingsley was there to hold him up and keep him warm.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 14. Order of the Phoenix

Disney - C6. Lumiere - Someone on the light side.

Cookies Corner - 6. Twix - Biscuits

Book Club - Mrs Owens - Singing / Dress / Cobwebs

Showtime - 17. Angry

Amber's Attic - Rapper 1 - Order of the Phoenix

Buttons - O2. Scarf / D5. "It's snowing!" / W2. Angel

Lyric Alley - 12. But it still hurts.

Em's Emporium - 5. Midnight

Angel's Arcade - 11. Jyunichi - Sword / Devotion / Reaching for someone

Bex's Basement - 1. Amber - Voldemort Wins!AU

Northern Funfair - Snowman - Stone Eyes - Cold

Southern Funfair - Mistletoe - GeorgeKingsley

Eastern Funfair - Paper Snowflake - 1. Winter


	35. BlaiseMollyii

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count** \- 1750

 _Warning - Murder, gore, and a somewhat graphic description of attempted rape._

* * *

 **Avenging Angel**

* * *

Blood covered her hands.

That wasn't a new experience, of course, but he…

She hadn't wanted it to end this way. Not with him.

She didn't understand why he had to make her so mad. Everything had been going well, she hadn't even… she'd stopped killing people. She'd been _normal_. He'd helped her be normal, and then he'd made her mad and she…

Dead eyes stared up at her, shining with betrayal even though the life had left them.

Her rage settled slowly, leaving her tired and shaking and, for the first time, horrified by her actions. It was… she couldn't help herself. She hit a certain level of anger and… it happened.

He…

Why had he said those words?

Why had he asked her to come out with their relationship? Everything had been _fine._ Great even.

And then… why would he do that?

Molly sunk slowly to the floor and gripped her hair with her bloody hands and she cried.

Life wasn't meant to be like this.

…

 _Sweat dripped down the back of her neck from her hairline and she flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she sat down on the barstool._

 _Blaise handed her a tumbler of whiskey and a tall glass of iced water._

" _There's a guy over there that has been staring at you for over an hour," he said, nodding his head behind her subtly._

" _He's got a snowflake's chance in hell," Molly replied disinterested._

 _Blaise laughed and raised his own glass from behind the bar as though to toast her. "To that snowflake's hope in hell then."_

 _Molly rolled her eyes at him, but gulped at the water greedily._

 _She loved Blaise's bar. He never judged her, no matter what she did, and it had the beautiful advantage of being a Muggle bar, so nobody who knew her family ever showed up there either._

 _She'd asked him once, why he chose the Muggle world, but he'd simply raised his eyebrow at her and said, "You know the world I grew up in. Would you want to stay in a place where everyone judges you for the colour of the tie you wore as a teenager?"_

 _She had to admit that he wasn't wrong and she never brought the subject up again._

" _Hey baby," a voice behind her murmured, a hand resting on her lower back. "You looked real good out there on the dance floor. Wanna dance with me?"_

 _She turned slowly to see the guy that Blaise had pointed out, that she'd noticed five minutes into arriving at the bar, leering down at her. He wasn't even trying to be subtly. She barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes._

" _Think you can keep up with me, champ?"_

" _I can take whatever you got," he replied, in what he clearly thought was a seductive voice. Molly just thought he sounded like he needed to lay off the cigarettes._

" _Show me what you've got then," she said, sliding off the barstool. She winked at Blaise, who was watching from where he was serving someone else. He shook his head at her but smiled when she grinned._

 _Molly led the way onto the dance floor and wasted no time in getting all up in the guys space. She lived for this, for the feel of another body against her, the motions of grinding back onto a willing partner for as long as the music flowed through her._

 _It was intimate, it was sexy, and she loved it._

…

 _Molly pulled her leather jacket on and leant on the bar to press her lips to Blaise's cheek. "See you soon, babe."_

" _Later, gorgeous," he replied waving to her. She grinned at the bouncer on her way out and flipped up the collar of her jacket when she realised how chilly it was._

 _Slipping into the side street, she raised an eyebrow when she saw the man she'd danced with leaning against the wall, a cigarette hanging from his lips._

 _She continued on her way, stopping only when he put his arm out to grab her upper arm._

" _You're coming home with me, sweetheart," he said, a glint in his eyes that told her he absolutely wasn't intending to take no for an answer._

 _Still she shook her head and yanked her arm from his grip. "I really don't think so."_

 _He turned, a smirk lifting his lips. From his pocket, he pulled a knife, the blade glinting in the small amount of light from the street lamp down the way._

" _I think I can persuade you."_

 _Molly slipped her hand into the waistband of her trousers and pulled out her wand. "Perhaps," she agreed pleasantly. "But perhaps not."_

 _She pointed her wand at him, unsurprised when he laughed._

" _What on earth do you think you're going to do with a stick?" he asked, shaking his head._

 _She thought about stunning him. She really did. Or even just obliviating him and sending him on his way. She would have done one of those if he'd just_ kept his mouth shut _._

" _Go on baby, fight me. I love it when they fight me, it makes it that much sweeter when they're finally begging."_

 _Molly stared at him for a moment, and before she knew what she was doing, a cutting curse was leaving her lips and blood was spurting from his neck._

 _She watched him bleed out dispassionately before she stowed her wand. It wasn't like it was any loss to the world, really._

 _She'd just done a public service._

…

The polyjuice potion was uncomfortable. She'd always hated the taste of it, but the plain Muggle girl she'd stolen the hair from tasted gross.

The priest at the front of the crematorium was talking, but Molly couldn't focus. Her attention was on the handsome wooden box at the front. It was closed, but she knew who was in there and she knew…

She shook her head, crossing one leg over the other. She couldn't think about that.

Her hands trembled in her lap so she pushed them together, pressing tight enough that her skin turned white from the pressure.

When they were called up to the casket, Molly hung back to the end of the line. When she finally stood beside it, she couldn't take her eyes away from the photo resting on top. He was laughing at something, and he'd never looked more handsome.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, resting her hand against the varnished wood for a moment before she stepped away, returning to the back row of the chairs.

A single tear slipped onto her cheek and she let it fall. She owed him that much.

…

" _I love you," he murmured, stroking a hand through her hair. Molly froze and he looked down at her, concerned. "What's wrong?"_

" _You can't love me."_

 _He frowned at her. "Molly, we've been together for six months, of course I can love you."_

 _She shook her head firmly, her red hair swinging around her shoulders._

" _I was… I was hoping we could stop hiding," he admitted, sitting up. "We've proven that we work as a couple and-"_

" _No," she shouted, standing up. "No, no, no! This isn't the way it's supposed to… You're mine! I don't want to share you and what we have with everyone else!"_

 _He blinked at her, clearly confused. "You… never want to tell anyone about us?"_

" _I, you're, stop," she begged. Her head was hurting and the pain was getting worse, a million emotions and thoughts pounding at her skull._

" _Molly -"_

" _Stop, please, just stop."_

 _He stood up, moving to her side and when he wrapped his arm around her arm, she flipped. Her rage was uncontrollable and her wand was in her hand and the words that had left her lips so many times before were once more falling from them._

 _It had never meant to be him._

…

"What's wrong, dad?" Molly asked when she saw him pouring over the Daily Prophet.

He looked up, smiling at her as he always did in the mornings. "Just… someone that was at Hogwarts in your Uncle Ron's year. He was murdered."

Molly felt a moment of panic but she forced it down, applying a concerned look to her face. "Did you know him?"

"I knew of him," her dad said, nodding as he looked back down at the paper. "Blaise Zabini. Didn't know him personally. It's odd though. He owned a Muggle bar, and there's been a string of murders there over the last year and a half. The Muggle law people didn't have a clue who was committing them but… well. Maybe it was him. He was a Slytherin after all. Maybe he did it and murdered the wrong person. The Aurors are going to look into the case."

Her dad shook his head and looked back up at her. "Don't you worry your pretty head about it, Sweetheart. How about we go and get breakfast. It's been a while since we've been out just us?"

"I…" Molly swallowed hard. "Yeah, dad, that sounds great. Just lemme get ready, kay?"

He nodded, and Molly turned around and run up the stairs. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she quickly opened her closet, pulling the box she'd hidden in the back of it. Inside it were memento's of each of the monsters that had tried to take her home, the animals that didn't understand that a dance was a dance and that was all.

She knew that it wasn't safe anymore. She shouldn't keep them, but… her grip on the box lid tightened. Instead of throwing them away, she put the picture she'd taken from the funeral and returned it to its place.

She was still angry at him, bitter that he'd ruined things but…

He was hers. He always would be.

…

Molly chose another bar.

She surveyed the crowd closely before she moved out onto the dance floor. Before ten minutes was up, she'd picked four scumbags from the crowd. She decided on one and subtly aimed herself his way.

She didn't always have to manipulate the situation, but she needed it. She couldn't… she needed to feel better and this was the only way she knew to do that. She wondered if, perhaps, it was her destiny to take the assholes from the world.

An avenging angel, perhaps.

A hand on her spine and putrid breath coming over her shoulder and Molly relaxed.

This was what she needed.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Advent Calendar - Day 3, Emotion - Bitter

Character Appreciation - 18. Manipulative

Disney - T6. Someone doing something destructive in anger

Cookie's Corner - Galaxy - A Pairing sneaking around in secret.

Book Club - The Man Jack - Murder / Knife / Confused

Showtime - 42. Destiny

Lyric Alley - 6. To that snowflakes hope in hell

Sophie's shelf - AU3. Serial Killer!AU

Em's Emporium - 3. Intimate contact with a stranger

Angel's Arcade - 3. Pierce - Blaise / A bar/pub / Laughing

Bex's Basement - 9. Kyrie - Serial Killer!AU

Northern Funfair - Igloo, Layer 1 - Serial Killer!AU

Southern Funfair - Mistletoe - BlaiseMollyii

Eastern Funfair - Paper Snowflakes - 15. "You can't love me."


	36. SiriusRemus

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 _Warning for Terminal Illness (Cancer) and Character Death._

 **Word Count** \- 1575

* * *

 **all the words i never said**

* * *

It didn't have to be this way.

Sirius sat in the hospital bed, a book in his lap. He wanted to read it, to finish it, but he didn't even have the energy to hold the book up.

"Knock, knock."

He blinked, shifting his head minutely to look at James. "You did not actually just _say_ knock knock, did you?"

"Nah, you're hallucinating."

"You think you're joking," Sirius muttered.

"You look like shit," James said. "Also, here. I brought you chocolate. Fuck fruit. Whoever said take healthy food to a sick person was a dumbass."

"When you're right, you're right," Sirius agreed.

James put the large bar on the table and sat down, slouching so he could kick his feet up on the end of the bed. Sirius couldn't help but look back at the door.

"Remus is running late," James said quietly. "He'll be here in a bit."

Sirius sighed but nodded. "Yeah… yeah of course he will."

James swallowed. "He's… struggling. We know this. I think it's hard for him, to see you looking so… ill."

Sirius snorted. "So sorry for him, that this is bad for him."

"Ahh, I didn't mean it like that, mate."

Sirius slumped back. "No, I know. I just… we've spent the best part of the last year apart already and I'm not… this isn't going to get better. I guess, I guess I just thought maybe he'd want to spend time with me, while he still can, you know?"

"Don't talk like that," James snapped.

"James…"

"No."

Sirius stared at him for a long moment and then nodded, moving the conversation onto easier subjects as he asked about Lily and Peter and their other friends. James eyed him gratefully before he launched into the latest gossip.

Sirius took it all in, greedy for every detail that he should have been there to witness first hand. It would help him feel a little less lonely when visiting hours were over.

…

There were three more afternoons spent with James, once with Lily too, and two visits from Peter before Remus entered the hospital room, eyes sheepish, angry and scared all in one vulnerable look.

"Hey."

Sirius blinked at him. He was having a bad day, barely able to move his heavy limbs.

"Hey."

"I… Sorry I haven't been for a while," Remus muttered awkwardly, shuffling over to the chair by the bed. "It's been…"

"Hard. I know."

Remus sighed, and Sirius closed his eyes. He couldn't… he didn't want to do this. He and Remus had only been together for a few months when he'd gotten diagnosed with the harsh strain of cancer that was ravishing his body from the inside out, though they'd been friends for years.

Sirius couldn't help but think that if they'd only stayed friends… maybe Remus wouldn't have abandoned him so thoroughly.

"I think we should break up," he whispered, interrupting whatever Remus was stuttering through. He opened his eyes to see Remus staring at him.

"Are you… are you joking?" Remus asked.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Sirius replied blandly. "It… I'm not going to get better, Remus. I have weeks, a couple of months if I'm lucky… and that's only lucky if you count being in agonising pain for longer."

"You don't know that," Remus whimpered, his eyes filling with tears.

"Actually I do, and you'd know it if you showed up more than once a month," Sirius snapped, his bitterness showing in his tone. "They told me three weeks ago."

"Sirius, I just… I love you," Remus muttered. "I love you so much and seeing you like this… it hurts. I just… I want things to go back to the way they were. We were so happy. I want that back."

"Things change. Life happens and it sucks, but don't you think that not seeing you at all is hurting me too? Don't you understand that lying in this bed day after day is sucking the life out of me more than the cancer is? Remus, the highlight of my day is mealtime, because at least then, I have something to do."

"Don't… I'll do better," Remus promised, pulling the chair closer to the bed. He reached for Sirius' hand but Sirius flinched and he aborted the movement. "Sirius, please."

"Just go, Moony. I'm tired, and I'm hurt and I'm angry, and I don't want to do this anymore."

"Sirius-"

"Get out."

"Sirius!"

"Get. OUT!"

Remus choked on a sob and fled the room, leaving Sirius to cry alone, the tears flooding into his ears because he didn't have the energy to lift his hands and wipe them away.

…

"You look great," Lily said, kissing Sirius' cheek.

Sirius grinned cheekily. "Thank you very much. I told you that you should have ditched that loser and date me instead," he said, nodding his head to James.

James rolled his eyes. "I don't care how persuasive you think you are, you'll never convince Lily to leave me for your dumb ass."

"I'll have you know I'm _very_ persuasive. I even get an extra cup of tea of the nurse in the morning!"

James and Lily chuckled. They all settled in, and James was practically bouncing in his seat.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrow.

"We're having a baby!" James blurted, before Lily could even open her mouth. She chuckled at him shaking her head.

"As you can see, James is very excited."

Sirius felt a rush of emotion, both negative and positive, and he didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process how he felt. While he _was_ bitter and angry and selfishly jealous, he was also overwhelmingly happy for his friends.

He decided to focus on the happiness, and he smiled widely at them both. "That's fantastic news, congratulations!"

"We, uh. If we have a boy, we want to name him after you," James said after a minute, swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat. "You… you've always been important to me, to both of us and, well…"

Tears slid down Sirius' face and he tugged James closer so he could hug his best friend.

"Middle name, eh?" He offered, when they pulled back. "Don't curse the poor kid like my parents did to me."

James choked on a watery laugh, and Lily shook her head, wiping away her own tears.

"Deal," James agreed.

Visiting hours drew to a close, and James and Lily prepared to leave. Sirius hugged James extra tight, as tight as his meagre strength would allow him. James ruffled his hair when they pulled away. "I love you, mate."

Sirius nodded. "I know. I love you too." He glanced at Lily and then back at James. "Give us a minute, would you?" he asked.

James nodded, and Lily perched herself on the bed beside Sirius' hip as James left the room, closing the door quietly.

"You know they say that there's a day or two that's really good, just before the end, right?"

Lily stared at him, her green eyes swimming with unshed tears. She nodded.

"Look after him for me," Sirius requested, nodding at the door. "Just… bear with him. He can be an asshole, you know that, but he loves you with every fiber of his being. Take care of him."

"I will," Lily replied, her tears falling freely now. "I promise you, I'll take care of him. And Remus."

Sirius swallowed hard but nodded. "Yeah, I… Yeah. Take care of Remus, too. Tell him I love him and I'm sorry. I would have spent my life with him."

"He loves you too, Sirius. I promise you, he does."

"I know," Sirius admitted. "I know he does. I love you, Lils."

"I love you too. We'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

…

James lounged in front of the fireplace, Lily leaning against his side. Remus and Peter sat in the armchairs, chuckling as Lily told them about James reaction to the pregnancy in the doctor's office.

James phone rang, interrupting the conversation, and he stretched to reach it. He frowned when he saw it was the hospital and sat up, gently nudging Lily off him as he answered the phone.

Lily seemed to catch on immediately when James' face paled and she raised a hand to her mouth.

When James put the phone down, he looked first at Lily, and then their friends. "We need to get up to the hospital. Sirius… it's…"

Lily stroked a hand down his arm. "Go and get our coats, sweetheart. I'll drive."

…

Remus stood by the doorway. James and Lily were sitting on one side of the bed, crying openly as they comforted each other. Peter sat on the other side, silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran a hand through already messy hair.

There was a long beep, and then…

Someone was screaming. Remus wanted to tell them to shut up, because the noise was awful even it did cover up the beep that signified the end of Sirius' life.

It took him a moment, and Peter's strong grip on his arm, to realise that he was the one screaming.

"I didn't… I didn't… I didn't get to tell him," Remus choked out, stumbling over to the bed. "I didn't get to tell him that I love him."

"He knew," Lily whispered. "Remus, he knew."

Remus sobbed into the white sheets that covered Sirius' body. "But I didn't tell him."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 12. Cup of Tea

Disney - C12. Someone who doesn't want things to change

Cookie's Corner - 8. Roses - "Thank you very much."

Book Club - Nobody Owens - Lonely / Running Late / Friendship

Showtime - 11. Persuasive

Lyric Alley - 14. Spent the best part of last year apart

Em's Emporium - 6. Mealtime

Angel's Arcade - 7. Tobias - "Does it look like I'm joking?" / RemusSirius / Screaming

Bex's Basement - 17. Gabby - Angsty Wolfstar

Northern Fairground - Igloo - Terminal Illness

Eastern Fairground - Paper Snowflakes - 14. Slash Pairing

Southern Fairground - Nice List - 16. Kristal - Chocolate


	37. RegulusAlecto

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count** \- 891

 _Warning for sibling abuse._

* * *

 **I'll Take Care Of You**

* * *

On the twenty fifth day of the twelfth month, Regulus Black was given the Dark Mark.

He'd honestly thought Bellatrix was joking when she arrived to pick him up on Christmas morning, a gleeful look in her eyes and an obnoxious smirk on her lips.

It wasn't quite the Christmas present he'd expected.

…

Being the new kid was annoying. He was sick and tired of his steps being dogged, of people questioning his every word and action, of them watching him closely searching for a weakness.

He made sure they wouldn't find one.

He might be young, but he was a Black, and they should all remember that.

…

Amycus Carrow was an utter nightmare. He was cold and indifferent in larger groups, his mask blanker than the Death Eater mask he wore on missions.

When he was one on one, he changed. He was cruel and vicious, even to those he called his allies.

He pointed his wand into Regulus' cheek, hard enough for it to hurt. He whispered words of weakness and derogatory names, like he thought it was his right to treat Regulus like shit because Regulus was younger and smaller.

Regulus twisted away and cursed him harshly in retaliation, leaving him a panting mess on the floor. He wasn't scared of Amycus Carrow.

His pounding heart didn't quite get that memo.

…

Alecto was another matter entirely. While she was the same as her brother in large groups, cold and aloof and indifferent, the few times that Regulus found her alone, she was warm and quiet, friendly and shy.

It was on one of those occasions that Regulus first saw the bruises.

"Are you okay?" he asked, nodding his head to the bruise on her shoulder. It looked suspiciously like fingerprints, as though someone had clasped her shoulder too hard.

She noticed what he was looking at and blushed. She offered him a sad smile as she swept her jet black hair over it to hide the marks.

"I'm fine, thank you, Regulus."

He didn't believe her.

…

It had been close to a year since Regulus had taken the mark when it finally happened. It hadn't taken him long to realise that Alecto's bruises and cuts and submissiveness was in direct relation to Amycus, but Regulus had never found proof.

Until he walked around a corner in the large manor house the Death Eaters were currently stationed and saw Amycus pulled Alecto into a room by her hair. Regulus run to the door, banging it open as Amycus raised his wand against his sister.

His heart pounded when he realised he was almost too late.

"Leave her alone and get the fuck out of here," Regulus growled, his own wand slipping from his sleeve into his hand as he crossed the room to block Amycus' access to Alecto. She whimpered behind Regulus, increasing his ire.

"Nobody tells me what to do or where to go, Black," Amycus snarled. "This is none of your business!"

Regulus stepped forward. "The mark on your arm says otherwise, _Amycus,"_ he murmured.

"You think the Dark Lord would care?" Amycus asked, his laugh derisive and mean.

"I think he'd be interested in what you were doing to someone he classes as his, yes," Regulus replied, tone cool. "When you, and more importantly when Alecto, took My Lord's mark, you gave yourselves to him completely. It would be interesting to know what he thinks of the way you hurt her."

A flash of fear passed over Amycus' face, and Regulus took a moment to take pleasure in it.

"You know what happens to snitches, don't you, Black?"

"But my Lord shares my mind often, as he does us all," Regulus replied evenly.

"You're a Black. You think none of us know how proficient you must be in Occlumency?"

"My my, Amycus. Surely you're not suggesting that I _hide things_ from our Lord? This is getting better and better."

Amycus paled and stumbled back. "You'll regret this, Black. I'll make sure of it."

Regulus just raised his eyebrow and waited until Amycus left, the door slamming shut behind him.

When they were alone, he crouched down slowly and stroked the hair away from Alecto's tearful face.

"Are you going to hurt me now?" she whimpered. "I was bad, I need to be punished."

Regulus scooped her up carefully in his arms. "No sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you, and neither is anyone else. I'll look after you."

…

"I've been hearing things about you, little cousin," Bellatrix said in her usual childish sing-song fashion. "Amycus Carrow is _angry."_

Regulus looked up at her, his hand never pausing as he stroked Alecto's hair. In the weeks since he'd removed her from Amycus' presence, she'd suffered nightmares and flashbacks many times.

It was nice to see her sleeping peacefully.

"I'm proud of you," Bellatrix said suddenly, before Regulus could reply to her. "Amycus Carrow is scum."

Regulus nodded. "He is."

Bellatrix smirked. "Perhaps he'll have an unfortunate accident one of these days, hmm?"

Regulus grinned. "That'd be such a shame."

"Indeed it would."

Bellatrix left them alone, and Regulus looked down to see Alecto looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He leant down and pressed a kiss to her head. "Sleep sweetheart. I'll take care of you now."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Character Appreciation - 17. Cold

Disney - C2. Write about someone almost being too late

Cookies Corner - 10. Write about being a 'new kid'.

Book Club - Liza Hempstock - Cursing Someone / Sad / "Nobody tells me what to do or where to go."

Showtime - 31. Year

Buttons - C2. Regulus Black

Lyric Alley - 3. On the 25th day of the 12th month

Angel's Arcade - 10. Matt Miller - Obnoxious / Jet Black / Grinning


	38. PercyOliver IV

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for Advent Calendar, Perciver, and Writing Club, Trope of the Month, Deaged, Prompt 3. Chocolate frog.**

 **Word Count - 546**

* * *

 **Perfect**

* * *

"Erm… what happened?" Oliver asked, glancing down at Percy.

George shifted in his seat. "I… well. There might have been an accident at the shop and Percy took the brunt of the… explosion?"

"And is there a… cure?"

"Well. I don't think it's permanent?" George offered. "Hopefully he'll be back to his normal self, erm, soonish?"

Oliver peered down at his suddenly very young fiance. "Soonish?"

"Erm… yeah."

Oliver sighed. Why did he want to marry into this family again?

…

Thankfully, young Percy was quiet and shy.

Oliver could only imagine what he would have done with a deaged George. It actually made him a little sad that Percy seemed so serious, when adult Percy was was far more relaxed these days.

"Do you want me to get you some toys?" Oliver asked the little boy as they walked through Diagon Alley.  
Percy bit his lip and nodded at Flourish and Blotts instead. "A book, please?"

Oliver shrugged and led him over to the bookstore. "Go nuts, kid."

…

While Percy was looking at books, Oliver nipped over to the sweet shop and grabbed a few chocolate frogs. He was tempted to grab a few other things, but he knew how fussy Percy was about sweets even now so it was probably best not to chance it.

By the time he got back to the bookshop, Percy had chosen three books and was waiting for him patiently.

"Are those all you want?" Oliver asked, looking at the three.

Percy nodded, blushing lightly, and Oliver took the books to the counter.

"You ready to head home kid?"

"To… to the Burrow?"

"Ah. No, to my home. And… well, our home. You remember what George said about you being an adult really?"

Percy nodded. "Okay, so we're going to head to our house, okay?"

Percy looked a little unsure but he nodded regardless. "Okay."

…

Oliver put the tv on when they got back, smiling at the way Percy stared at it like it was something mystical. He supposed they'd both done that when they'd first bought it.

Deciding that a movie was probably the way to spend the evening, Oliver left Percy alone for a few minutes while he got a quick shower and then offered him the bathroom.

He shrunk some pyjamas that adult Percy didn't really wear and left them on the bed and then set to preparing some food.

It wasn't long until they were both on the sofa, with sandwiches and a pile of snacks, and some kids movies ready to play.

It amused Oliver immensely that this really wasn't an unusual night for them. It just so happened that Percy was about twenty five years younger.

…

Oliver blinked awake, feeling warm and comfortable. He was still on the sofa and the tv had a blue screen. It took him a moment to realise that Percy was stretched out on top of him, full sized again and snoring softly into his neck.

Oliver smiled.

As cute as mini Percy was, he was glad to have his fiance back. He wrapped his arms around Percy and shifted them slightly so he was a little more comfortable.

Percy mumbled against his neck before he settled and Oliver closed his eyes. This was perfect.


	39. Dudley-Centric

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 646**

* * *

 **Change Isn't Always Bad**

* * *

Winter was well and truly setting in. Dudley pulled an extra blanket over himself and wrapped himself up in them. He stared out of the window into the darkness, the light long gone despite the relative early hour.

He hated winter, even when they were home and he had all of his creature comforts around him. It was particularly depressing now that they were in a cabin in the woods, hiding away from a war that should never have been anything to do with them.

Not that it was all bad of course. It wasn't.

His mum in particular seemed to have flourished, and she seemed to be enjoying their time in the cabin. It had surprised Dudley, who'd never have thought to put his mum in such a setting when she was so at home with the shiny appliances and many cleaning products they had back in Surrey.

His dad, on the other hand, didn't seem to be enjoying their time away. He complained quite often about the minimalistic lifestyle.

Dudley thought he was handling it fairly well. The first few months had been horrible, and even now, there were days that just _refused to end,_ but he thought he was handling it better now.

He still missed Piers, and the gym, and being… being himself, but he'd learned a lot too. Dedalus was a huge fan of his cousin, and, over the months, he'd told Dudley so many stories of Harry's life.

If nothing else, Dudley hoped they both lived long enough for him to tell Harry that he'd been wrong.

For so many years, he'd thought Harry beneath him. He'd thought him a waste, a wimp, and now he knew just how wrong he'd been. He wasn't sure how much of Dedalus' stories he believed, but he also remembered the Dementors in the alley and the way Harry had saved his life.

Even now, thinking about that night left him feeling nervous and shaky.

"Dudders?"

Dudley looked up to see his mum at the doorway. "What's up, Mum?"

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of making some cheese on toast?"

Dudley nodded. "Sounds great, Mum, thanks."

She smiled at him, and it was a new smile, one that she'd only started smiling in the last few weeks as she settled into the cabin.

Dudley thought he might have to thank Harry for that too.

…

A crack that Dudley recognised as wizard travel sounded, and he looked up, glancing around the area. Dedalus was due back, and Dudley was sure it was him, and yet… he felt… odd.

He waited for a few moments, and then he saw movement and his jaw dropped.

"What… what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take you home," Harry replied quietly.

"I… are you… okay?"

The tired smile his cousin gave him was small but sincere. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good, Dud. We won."

"I… well done?" Dudley offered, not really sure if congratulations were the right reaction. Harry chuckled.

"Thanks. How's it been here?"

Dudley shrugged. "Okay. Mum seems to have enjoyed it. Dad… not so much."

"Shocker," Harry muttered, and Dudley surprised him by laughing.

"You should probably tell them I'm here, help them pack up. I'll wait out here."

Dudley nodded and turned back to the house. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "I really am glad that you're okay, Harry."

"Back at ya, Big D."

…

Back in his bedroom on Privet Drive, Dudley looked around at his bedroom. It was good to be home, but he couldn't say he hated the cabin either.

He'd been raised to see change and difference as a bad thing, but he didn't think of it like that anymore.

From his window, he saw Piers crossing the road and smiled to himself. Change wasn't always bad, but… there was something to be said for coming home, too.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Advent Calendar; Dursley Family

Disney - S1. Someone admitting they're wrong about something

Showtime - 24. Nervous

Northern Fair - Igloo - Winter

Eastern Fair - Paper Snowflakes - 63. Darkness

Southern Fair - Big Dinner Bash - Pigs In A Blanket - Blanket


	40. HarryGinny III

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges Listed at the Bottom**

 **Word Count** \- 1262

* * *

 **Waiting**

* * *

This wasn't how she'd expected it to be.

So many nights, Ginny had laid in her bed unable to sleep, daydreaming of the war being over. She'd expected Harry to be by her side, her family sitting around discussing what would come next.

She hadn't expected the constant stabbing in her gut whenever she thought about Fred.

She hadn't expected her mother bursting into tears at random intervals.

She hadn't expected George to turn into the family recluse, hiding away from them while he battled against the pain of losing his twin.

What Ginny really hadn't expected was the entire _lack_ of Harry.

They'd had a moment together in the hours after the battle when they were still at Hogwarts. Harry had held her tight and let her sob into his chest, the grief from losing her brother overwhelming. He'd pressed kisses to her temple and apologised over and over for things that weren't his fault.

Ginny had fallen asleep on his chest, thinking that despite all the pain and loss, at least she still had this.

Except she'd woken up and he'd been gone and she hadn't seen him alone since.

…

May faded into June, into July, into August.

Ginny saw Harry briefly on the morning of his birthday, when she'd tagged along with Ron and Hermione to see him. He'd given her a one armed hug, and smiled tiredly at her, but before ten minutes had passed, he was being called away.

Everybody wanted a piece of their hero.

It _sucked._

She'd waited for him, and she was still waiting for him, and she'd keep waiting for him, but there was no denying waiting was the worst feeling in the world.

…

She readied herself slowly, carefully applying makeup and smoothing her hair out until it was perfect. She added hoop earrings and a simple gold chain around her neck and then spelled her wall reflective so she could get a full view of herself.

It was odd, receiving invitations to important Ministry events. They'd never really experienced it before, since Fudge saw her father as a bit of a joke. Not that Ginny ever felt like she was missing out, not at all, it was just odd that now the whole family were invited to almost every event that was thrown.

Usually, they dismissed the invitations. They were simple people that enjoyed simple things, and going to a luncheon filled with politics wasn't any of their idea of a good time.

This time though, it was the Christmas Ball, and… Harry would be there. Ginny could only hope that she would be able to at least snag a dance with him, a moment for them to talk alone, even in the middle of the crowd.

Even if it was only five minutes… it was five minutes more than she'd had in the last three months.

…

"There are plenty more fish in the sea, dearie."

Ginny blinked and looked to her left, where an old lady was sitting. Her eyes had followed Ginny's to where Harry stood with the Minister. Ginny quickly pushed down her anger, knowing that a lot of it wasn't for the woman's thoughtless comment.

"Perhaps," she agreed instead. "But that's the only 'fish' I want, so if you'll excuse me?"

The woman waved her on, a smirk on her thin lips. Ginny paid her no mind as she crossed the room, ignoring the butterflies that danced in her stomach.

"Ginny!" Harry greeted when he caught sight of her. He moved towards her automatically, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. "You look beautiful."

She smiled. "You look very handsome," she replied. "Dance with me?"

Harry's smile fell a little and he looked back at the group of men who were clearly waiting on him to continue their conversation. Ginny's heart thudded in her chest, waiting for the rejection she was sure was coming.

"I… yeah. That… that sounds perfect. Give me one second?"

"Of course."

Ginny waited patiently while he explained himself to the Minister and their companions quickly and within moments he was back by her side, leading her onto the dance floor.

She fit in his arms like she'd been made for them.

"I missed you," she said against his throat.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his hand stroking her back. "I know it's been… horrible. I just… so many people think they need me and I'm being told again and again that it's my responsibility to the people and I just…"

"I get it, Harry," she whispered. "But… maybe we can find a balance? I'll wait for you, you know I will, but… I miss you."

"I don't… I don't expect you to wait for me," he muttered, and she looked up to see his sparkling green eyes pained. "I hope… I _hope_ you do, but I don't _expect_ you to."

"I'll always wait for you," she replied quietly, tucking her head against his neck. They danced three songs before Harry was once more being called into a conversation that he _simply had to be there for._

Ginny didn't mind. Much.

She spent the rest of the evening with her family, watching him across the room.

…

"Hot chocolate, sweetheart?" her mum asked, standing from her comfortable chair. Ginny nodded, smiling tiredly.

"Thanks, Mum."

It was Christmas Eve, and Ginny was curled up on the sofa. Harry had promised to try and make it for the day, and she was trying her best not to hope to much that she'd wake up in the morning to find him helping in the kitchen.

A small bang from the kitchen broke her thoughts, and she heard her mum laugh. Ginny frowned but shook it off, sure that one of her brothers had passed without her noticing.

"You know, not liking marshmallows on hot chocolate should be considered a crime."

Ginny looked up, her eyes wide, to see Harry standing in the doorway holding two mugs of hot chocolate. Ginny barely waited for him to put them down on the table before she pounced on him, octopus'ing herself around him.

"I missed you too," he chuckled, holding her tightly. He moved them to the sofa and sat down with Ginny on his lap.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, gripping his t-shirt like she was certain he was going to vanish.

"Ahh, Kingsley was a bit done with my pining for you, I think."

"You've been pining?" Ginny asked, a smile curving her lips.

"Me? No of course not, don't know what you're talking about," Harry mumbled and then grinned at her. "Little bit?"

Ginny chuckled. "How long do I have you for?"

"Would saying forever be cheesy?"

"Yes. But also I like it."

"Forever then. But also, until Boxing day at the earliest."

Two days, Ginny thought, was just about the best Christmas present she could have asked for. She cuddled into him, and he adjusted them slightly so they were curled around one another, the mugs of hot chocolate in reachable distance.

"Cuddling by the fire is a ridiculously couple-y thing to do," he commented quietly. "I think it might be my new favourite."

"As long as you're only doing it with me."

"You've just broken hearts everywhere."

Ginny snorted. "I really don't care. You're mine, Mr Potter."

"I feel objectified and it's hot."

She laughed and a moment later, he was laughing with her. He tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Gin."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Advent Calendar - HarryGinny

Character Appreciation - 27. Halfblood

Disney - C11. Write about someone pining.

Showtime - 2. There are plenty of fish in the sea

Angels Arcade - 6. Beautiful / Responsible / Hoop Earrings

Northern Funfair - Igloo - Grief

Eastern Funfair - Paper Snowflakes - 16. Harry Potter

Southern Funfair - The Nice List - 17. Calliope - Cuddling by the fire.


	41. Ron&Harry

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for Advent Calendar** ; Harry & Ron

 **Word Count** \- 334

* * *

 **By His Side**

* * *

Ron walked into the common room rubbing his eyes tiredly. Hermione had fallen asleep curled up on conjured bean bags with Ginny and Luna, but he'd wanted to check on Harry before he slept himself.

He found his best friend in one of the comfortable armchairs by the window, looking out over the damaged castle.

"Grim picture, isn't it?" Ron commented quietly.

Harry didn't even bother looking at him. He snorted and nodded his head.

"How you doing, mate?"

Harry swallowed hard and shrugged. "It's weird," he said, eventually. "I expected to die. I _did_ die. And yet… here I sit."

Ron rubbed his temple. Just the thought of everything that Harry had been through during the night was enough to threaten a migraine. Ron didn't know what to say. Was there anything that _could_ be said to that?

"For… for what it's worth… I'm glad you didn't die," he said, not really knowing what else he could say. "I'm proud of you."

"I didn't do anything to be proud of," Harry replied darkly. "If I'd been better, quicker, stronger… well. Maybe so many people wouldn't be dead right now."

"None of what happened is on you, Harry. Thinking like that's just gonna drive you mad. It's on _him._ You did what you had to do, and you did it the only way you knew how. That's something to be proud of."

"Maybe. How's Hermione?"

Ron smiled. "She's good. Sleeping downstairs."

Harry nodded. "We should probably do the same. I'm exhausted, so I know you've gotta be feeling it too."

Ron snorted. Exhausted didn't even cover the tiredness he was feeling.

"I just… just wanted to make sure you were okay, before I collapse for twenty four hours."

"I'm not," Harry admitted. "But I will be. We all will, eventually."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. No matter what they'd been through, no matter what they were still to face, Ron knew he would stand by Harry's side through all of it.


	42. AmeliaJohnKingsley

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for Advent Calendar;** AmeliaJohnKingsley

 **Word Count** \- 465

 _Warning for Character Death_

* * *

 **Their Heart and Soul**

* * *

"Have you seen Amelia?" John asked, stopping by Kingsley's desk. "She's not in her office."

Kingsley shook his head, frowning. "No. Didn't she say she was heading home early?"

"I… have no idea," John admitted, rubbing his head. "I feel like I've been living in the office for the last fortnight."

"All of us feel that way," Kingsley replied. "You should head home and find her. I'll be there in a little while."

"Come with me now," John cajoled, holding his hand out for Kingsley to take. "You've been here as often as me, so come home with me now. The paperwork can wait until the morning."

Kingsley looked down at the parchment he'd been diligently writing on. "Fuck it, you're right. Let's go."

John laughed, pulling Kingsley to his feet. He checked the office briefly before he pulled the slightly taller man down for a kiss. "I like this plan," he murmured against Kingsley's lips. "This is a good plan."

Kingsley nodded. "This is the best plan. Now we just need our Amelia and we'll be set for the night."

John tugged Kingsley impatiently to the door and then let go of his hand, straightening his robes. While none of them were ashamed of their triad relationship, they also kept things lowkey in the Ministry.

It wasn't exactly the most… tolerant of places. Particularly under the current reign and in the current political climate.

"Lead on, John. I want to go home," Kingsley murmured, his calm, deep voice sending a shiver up John's back.

…

They were at the floo when the messages of an attack came in. Seeing the address on the notifications had John and Kingsley moving much faster, panic stricken and fearful of what they would find.

They arrived as the hit squad did, and the head of the squad, Simon Miller, pulled them back.

"You don't need to go in there boys," he murmured. "It's not something you need to see."

Kingsley met his eyes and he _knew._

"I have to see her," he whispered.

John gripped his arm, the grip tight enough to be painful if only Kingsley wasn't numb already.

They entered the house together, holding one another up and even that wasn't enough when they saw her.

"Amelia," John whispered.

They stumbled to her sides, one on each, and they sobbed over her body. She was their heart.

She always had been. Kingsley was their strength, and John was their brain, but Amelia… she had been their heart and soul.

"Clear out, fellas," Miller murmured to his squad. "Let's… give them a few minutes, eh?"

John and Kingsley paid him no mind. Kingsley gripped John's hand over Amelia's stomach, and as one, they lay down on either side of her.

They didn't want to let her go.


	43. Neville-Centric

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count** \- 899

* * *

 **Searching For Warmth**

* * *

He had vague memories of warmth and love, of being sung too, of hearing soft murmurs of affection. He didn't know how much of it was actual memories, and how much of it was wishful thinking of a life he should have had.

Neville stared at old photos for hours at a time, the cheerful face of his mother making him smile, the strong stature of his dad making him feel safe even though it was just a photograph of a man long gone.

The shells of these people that his gran took him to visit weren't what Neville wanted to think about.

He could lie for hours with the photos spread around him on the bed, imagining days that could have happened had fate not been so cruel. Everyone was always smiling and happy in his imagination, and the colours were always vibrant.

Without fail, his gran's voice would be the sharp edged tool that brought him back to real life with a rather unpleasant bump.

His gran loved him. Neville knew that, he really did. She just… didn't show it the same way that Neville sometimes wished she would. He craved a kind word, a gentle touch. He didn't get them very often.

His gran was very precise in the way she liked things done, and the way things were _supposed_ to be, and it wasn't very often that Neville lived up to that. Neville often wondered if it was normal that he was scared of the person that looked after him.

When his Hogwarts letter finally arrived, Neville wondered if things would change. He was nervous, downright frightened if he was honest, but he couldn't help but think that maybe he would find the warmth he was looking for there.

…

Hogwarts didn't offer him the warmth he'd hoped for.

How he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, he didn't know. He stared at his red and gold tie with disbelief. He'd been so sure it would be the yellow and black of Hufflepuff.

Sometimes he wished that he _had_ been sorted into Hufflepuff, because maybe there, he wouldn't feel like such an interloper.

Like such a loser.

He wasn't brave or bold or brash. He never had been. He watched the boys pair off into fast friendships from the outside, unable to push himself forwards enough to make a friend of his own.

Sure, they weren't mean to him, but it didn't stop him feeling like an outcast when they sat together at night time while he sat alone.

In the top drawer of his bedside table, Neville kept his photos. Here, his gran's voice wouldn't be able to pull him back to reality. Here, he could pretend as much as he wanted.

It helped him when the loneliness became overwhelming.

…

Neville loved Herbology. He didn't even care that his earmuffs always ended up being pink. As they moved through second year, he realised he'd finally found something that offered a semblance of the warmth he'd been looking for.

It wasn't quite right, but it was the closest he'd ever managed to get.

Professor Sprout smiled at him, patted his shoulder, told him, "Well done, Neville!"

Neville returned her smiles with nervous energy and returned to his work. This he could do. This he enjoyed. This was warm.

…

He sometimes wondered what it was that the sorting hat saw in him to put him in Gryffindor, but then he was in fifth year, and Harry was watching him with undisguised pride and he realised that maybe it had always been there.

Deep down.

…

They were at war, and still Neville couldn't bring himself to actively hurt people. He knew he was too gentle to be in the role of leadership he'd unintentionally stepped into, but it wasn't in him to fight fire with fire.

Instead, he did what he could to help.

He lead Dumbledore's Army on a rescue mission, saving as many as they could from the wrath of the Carrows, and bringing them into the home they'd made in the Room of Requirement.

The room had started beige and boring, but within weeks, there was red and blue and yellow as the house flags were raised up on the walls. The only colour missing was green, but Neville tried not to think about that.

He knew that the Slytherin's were faring better, but that didn't mean his heart didn't clench when he run across a second year in a green and silver tie, crying silently in an abandoned classroom.

Even as young as she was, she wouldn't let him help her.

…

A splash of blood caught in his eye and he blinked it away. Alecto Carrow cackled, bringing the whip down again. From the corner of Neville's eye, he saw Seamus slipping past the doorway with a trail of injured kids following him.

When Alecto waited for a scream that never came from Neville, she snarled at him. He smiled back.

The pain was so worth it.

…

He stared at his gran for a long moment. He could feel blood running down his cheek, and he knew he looked a mess but the pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

She smiled at him, and stepped forwards to cup his cheek.

"I'm so proud of you, Neville."

He leant into her touch. There was that warmth that he'd been searching for.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Assorted Appreciation - 30. Write about someone who feels like an outcast.

Disney - C1. Someone kind or gentle

Book Club - Kosuke - Neville / Fate / Nervous

Showtime - 8. Blue

Liza Loves - 7. Someone pure or innocent

Film Festival - 29. Loser

Pop Figure Collecting - Hawkeye - Cheerful / Precise

Cheese Board - Breadsticks - Warmth

Family Feud - Q1 - 4. Green

Days of the Year - 63. Being scared of someone that is supposed to look after them.

Winter - Earmuffs

Colour - Beige

Element - Splash

365 - 118. Frightened

1000 - 63. Neville Longbottom


	44. RowenaSalazar

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom**

 **Word Count - 728**

* * *

 **A Life Without Joy (No Life At All)**

* * *

Rowena stared out of the window, her eyes on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was snowing, the snowflakes joining together to cover the usually lush green in a coat of white. She sighed to herself, her head hurting.

A stress headache, she was sure.

Helena had run again, the fourth time in the last year alone, though this was the longest she'd ever been gone. Rowena didn't know what she was going to do with her daughter, who's jealousy and greed were going to be her downfall.

The coveted item, Rowena's own treasure, the Diadem.

Stupidly, if only Helena would change her ways, shed inherit the Diadem anyway. It was Rowena's most treasured heirloom.

Rowena shook her head. There was nothing she could do about Helena, nothing she could say to her until she came home. And even then, what could Rowena do? She'd tried time and time again to speak with her headstrong daughter, what was there left to say or do?

"Rowena?"

She turned her head, offering Salazar a tired smile and beckoned him closer. He stepped up behind her, his hands resting lightly on her tense shoulders.

"You are worrying about Helena again," he murmured. "She'll come home, Love. Just give her time."

"Will she?" Rowena asked, making her fear known now that she was no longer alone. "We had a particularly vicious row this time. I am… worried for her."

Salazar squeezed her shoulders. "Would you like me to send the Baron out to search for her. Even if she refuses to come home, he will be able to assuage your fears for her safety."

Rowena twisted her lips as she thought. Her gut told her no, because Baron had quite the infatuation with Helena, and Rowena knew just how much her daughter was uninterested with the man.

She shook her head. "No. Helena will return when she's ready to. Until then, I suppose I shall just have to wait and hope."

Salazar leant down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Then come with me. I shall endeavor to distract you."

…

Helena returned home.

Rowena tried again to speak with her daughter, to bond with her, but Helena resisted as she always had and so Rowena fell back into the shadows to watch her silently instead.

The festering jealousy that fed Helena made her blind to her own faults. Rowena heard tell of Helena's tales of woe that she spread, tales of how hard her life was, how her mother misjudged and maligned her.

Rowena denied the words, of course, but she refused to comment on the real story. It was nobody else's business, and Rowena had no wish to speak ill of her daughter, no matter what she thought in the privacy of her own mind.

Helena would change, or not, but Rowena would stand strong and wait for her daughter for as long as it took.

…

"I need you to send the Baron after Helena," Rowena said, entering Salazar's study.

Salazar looked up, surprised at the desolate look on Rowena's faith. He'd heard earlier in the day from Helga that Helena had run once more, but Rowena wasn't usually so upset by it. Worry was her usual emotion, yet this time she seemed angry along with it.

"What has changed, my Dear?" he asked, standing to wrap his arms around his love.

"She took my Diadem, Sal," Rowena whispered. "She stole it from me and run with it. I never thought… I never thought she could do such a thing, no matter her attitude to me. I never would have expected this."

Salazar rubbed her arm comfortingly, trying to force his own anger away. He hated to see Rowena so upset, and while Helena was often the source of Rowena's distress, this was beyond what even Salazar would have expected of the girl.

"I'll send for him immediately, sweetheart. He'll return with Helena and the Diadem, whatever the cost."

Rowena nodded silently and leant her head against Salazar's chest.

…

Salazar left.

The Baron never returned and nor did Helena.

Rowena spent many an eve sitting at her window, staring out of the grounds of the school she'd helped build from nothing.

For all of her accomplishments, Rowena had long lost the things that brought joy to her life, and really?

What was the point in a life without joy?

* * *

 **Written for;**

Cheese Board; Sharp Cheddar - Rowena Ravenclaw

Pop Figure - Falcon; 3. Blind / 4. Fear

Flower - Dogwood; Rowena Ravenclaw

365 - 1. Treasure

1000 - 15. Heirloom


	45. Molly-Centric

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 645**

* * *

 **Totally, Completely, Utterly, (not) Fine**

* * *

She hid it well, she thought. It helped that she was the one to do the cleaning and the cooking, the one to go through cupboards and the only one to spend time in the laundry room.

The bottles of firewhisky were slotted into the oddest places, but they were useful. A mouthful here, a gulp there, it helped to get her through the day.

She wasn't addicted.

She wasn't.

It just gave her that little boost when her emotions threatened to drown her. They were always pulling on her, the tragedy of her lost son, the pain of almost losing her daughter, the trauma of sitting across from her boy every day, knowing him lost without his twin beside him.

The firewhisky helped her to fight against that pull. It numbed it just enough for her to push back, to stay standing, to keep her head up and not give into the need to just _cry and never stop._

Molly didn't consider it sneaking either. She wasn't sneaking anything, because she was the only person around for much of the day. It wasn't sneaking if she drank openly in the laundry room with a bottle handily placed behind the fabric softener.

It was just that nobody else was there to see it.

And it wasn't sneaking when she left Arthur alone in their bed to spend ten minutes in the bathroom, puking her guts up and washing away the taste with minty toothpaste that masked the taste of both the sick and the alcohol.

It was all fine.

She was fine.

Or she was until Christmas rolled around.

She told herself it was fine to have a houseful again because she wasn't hiding and she wasn't sneaking because she didn't have a problem.

Except maybe she did, because it was three o'clock in the morning and Charlie and Bill were still up and she was banging the silver pots and pans around in the kitchen, trying to bake her way through her pain.

She heard whispers of 'stress baking' and ignored them because she wasn't stressed, she was fine, there was nothing wrong with her.

Until.

"Mum? What's this doing in the laundry basket?" Charlie asked, raising a bottle to show her the half empty firewhiskey bottle.

"Oh, it must have been misplaced," she hedged, smiling brightly. "Just put it in the cupboard, dear."

"There's a lot of misplacement of bottles, Mum," Bill said, entering the kitchen with two more bottles.

"Is… everything okay?" Charlie asked, frowning. He glanced at Bill and then back to Molly. "Is Dad… is he okay? Is this… something we need to worry about?"

Molly swallowed hard and shook her head. She shouldn't do this, she knew. This was _wrong._ But she was fine, and she wasn't addicted and it wasn't a problem, and she didn't want to worry them.

"He's dealing with a lot right now, Boys, that's all. Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on things. I have the situation under control."

Bill stared at her for a long moment. "If you're sure. You know… you know we'll help, if you need it, right?"

"Of course I do. You're good boys. Go on now, get yourselves up to bed. And… don't say anything to your father. I wouldn't want him to be embarrassed, especially at Christmas."

Charlie looked ready to argue, but Bill nodded, and tugged Charlie towards the stairs. "We won't, Mum. Love you."

Charlie echoed the sentiment, and Molly repeated it to them, watching them walk up the stairs. She looked at the three half empty bottles and sighed.

She'd have to find new places for them, or perhaps even get rid of them. She could do that, she didn't have a problem.

It was only three days and they'd be leaving. She could do that with no problem.

She wasn't addicted.

She was fine.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Cheese Board - Meat; Salami - The Burrow

Pop Figure - Winter Soldier - 1. Tragedy / 2. Silver / 3. Sneaking / 4. Hiding something.

365\. 15. Addicted

1000\. 129. Stress baking.


	46. Charlie-Centric

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 753**

* * *

 **A Little Shift**

* * *

He'd been so excited to get his wings.

He'd waited, very impatiently, for his sixteenth birthday to arrive.

Charlie hadn't expected the pain of them growing, though as he writhed on the bed, he thought he probably should have thought about it, because it made sense. Wings growing out of his back was never going to be the most comfortable thing.

What he also hadn't expected, was the imbalance. He'd thought… well. Bill held them so naturally, and Charlie couldn't think of any time he'd seen his brother struggle with the added wait on his shoulders and spine.

His mum and dad, everyone else Charlie saw on a daily basis, all held them naturally too, as though they'd been born with them.

Not so much for Charlie.

He'd long dreamt of being able to glide alongside his elder brother in the setting sun, had waited and wanted for so long that he didn't know what it felt like to want that.

He was so _clumsy_ with them.

It was ridiculous.

They smashed off door frames and walls and cupboards, each time causing pain to shoot up his back into his neck.

He even managed to trip over them once, with no idea how he'd managed it.

Why couldn't he do this? He spent hours in the garden of the Burrow, thankful that his birthday had come over the holidays, so he hadn't yet had to embarrass himself in front of his classmates.

He tried flapping them, to barely get even a draft of air. He tried holding them up and out the way Bill did when he was annoyed, only to have them hang limply from his shoulders.

He didn't understand.

He felt like he was _broken,_ and he had no idea how he was going to fix this because he didn't know what the problem was to fix.

"You'll get the hang of it, dear," his mother said.

Fred and George and Ron all just laughed at him until their mother shouted, and Percy had tried to bore him to sleep with the physics of wings in an effort to help.

His dad had simply patted his shoulder and said he would be there to help in anyway he could if Charlie needed him.

Bill… Bill was at a loss and it was making him sad that he couldn't help his little brother. Bill spent hours trying to help Charlie learn his wings, but nothing helped.

One night, Charlie sat in the garden alone, frustration coursing through him. The new school year was drawing closer and closer and he didn't want to have people laugh at him everyday whenever he banged into something or _fell over his own wings because what even was that anyway?_

He read through his old favourite dragon book, trying to settle himself enough to get some sleep. The night air was warm on his skin, and he flicked the pages, his lips tilting despite himself as he watched the dragons fly around the pages.

He watched their wing movements, watched the joints and the way they moved. He wanted that.

As he watched, he shifted his own muscles, eyes widening when his wing shifted too. Paying more attention to the pages of the book, Charlie moved the way the dragons did, tiny movements, barely even noticeable on their wing joints.

…

"Bill! Bill!" he muttered, waking his brother up urgently.

"Charlie? What… what are you… it's four in the morning!"

Charlie ignored him, pulling him from his bed and down the stairs. Bill stumbled after him, rubbing at sleepy eyes.

"Charlie, what's this all about?" he complained, as Charlie pulled him outside. Bill's eyes widened when Charlie spread his wings and with a leap, took off, his wings holding him aloft as he swirled and twirled through the air.

"You're doing it," Bill whispered. "How? How did you get from… what you were like, to this?"

"Dragons," Charlie replied, a wide grin on his face. "Dragons, Bill."

Bill snorted. "Why didn't we think of that earlier? You've always been obsessed. Still though, I don't understand."

Charlie landed and picked up his book from where he'd left it lying on the bench. He held it out to Bill, pointing out the tiny movements on the joints.

"If I shift like this, I can control them," he said, his grin only widening. His eyes were alight and the excitement he'd lost had returned in full.

"I'm not broken, Bill!"

Bill softened, squeezing Charlie's shoulder. "You've never been broken, Charlie."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Cheese Board - Bread - Sesame Seed - Imbalance

Pop Figure - Falcon - 1. Charlie Weasley / 2. Wing!Au

365\. Glide

1000\. 382. Wing!AU


	47. RonHermione

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 455**

* * *

 **Lessons Learned**

* * *

Ron pulled at the collar of his shirt nervously. He could feel sweat on the back of his neck, but he didn't dare rub it away in fear of messing his hair up.

He really shouldn't be so nervous. It was just Hermione, and Hermione loved him. He knew she did, and she told him often enough anyway, just in case he'd somehow forgotten, so this should be easy.

Simple.

Hermione was his perfect match and this was just… put the finishing touch on that. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

Except… what if it wasn't that simple and she said no? What then?

Would it implode their relationship? Would he left with a ring and no Hermione at all? What if she laughed in his face and—

But no.

She'd say yes. She loved him.

The back garden of their house had been decorated just so, with Ginny's help. There were fairy lights and candles and there was food under statis spells and—

And Hermione was here.

She looked around the garden before she met his eyes, a smile on her lips. "This is beautiful," she murmured, stepping closer to him.

"You're beautiful," he replied, kissing her softly. He pulled her chair out, pushing it in carefully when she was sitting.

He was supposed to wait until after they'd eaten, before the desert, but the nerves were already choking him and he didn't think he'd be able to even swallow around the steak.

"I… just let me say all this," he requested quietly. She raised an eyebrow at him but nodded.

"You've taught me so many things over the years," he started, swallowing hard. "You've taught me that it's okay to not be great at something, because I have other skills. You've taught me that it's okay to rely on other people, and okay to trust people to have my back. You've taught me friendship and love and what it's like to have someone accept me for who I am rather than who they want me to be.

"I even remember the first thing you ever taught me, before we were even friends," he added, pulling out his wand.

"Wingardium leviosa," he murmured, and the small box he'd stashed earlier floated towards him, landing soundlessly in his hand. He opened it to show the simple diamond ring he'd been saving for for months.

"You taught me that sometimes, it's okay to take a chance, because sometimes, it's worth it. I love you, Hermione. Will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down her face but she nodded, smiling at him. As soon as he'd placed the ring on her finger, she threw her arms around him.

"I love you too," she whispered against his neck.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Cheese Board - Sauce - Garlic Dill Mustard - Ring

Pop Figure; Tony Stark - 2. Wingardium Leviosa

365; 21. Match

1000; 61. Ron Weasley


	48. PercyOliver V

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 542**

* * *

 **Reaching Out and Holding On**

* * *

It had been a decade.

Percy stared across the ballroom, unsure if it would be acceptable for him to cross it, to shake Oliver's hand and say hello as though they hadn't had a messy breakup all those years ago.

Especially since that break up had been on Percy.

He'd made a lot of mistakes over that year and a half, but one of the worst had been arguing with Oliver when he'd stated himself firmly on Harry's side. He should have left Oliver to have his own opinions.

He should have realised how stupid he was being, standing by the Ministry instead of the family he'd grown with and the man he loved. He probably didn't deserve any of them now, though his family had forgiven him without question.

Percy thought about the last time he'd seen Oliver in person, at the battle of Hogwarts. Sure, he'd seen him on the front of papers and such since, but the battle had been the last time they'd been so close.

He'd cast a protection spell over Oliver without thinking, the "Protego" falling from his lips before he'd even thought it through. He'd hoped there would be time afterwards, to apologise for his mistakes and make things, if not right, then better, but then Fred, and Percy had fallen apart.

George had told him over the years to contact oliver, that the brunet asked about him whenever he saw George, but Percy was stubborn. He'd done Oliver wrong and that was on him to deal with the consequences.

Looking over at his long lost love, Percy sighed. It wasn't his place to interrupt Oliver's life again.

Percy turned away, and engaged one of his colleagues, counting down the seconds before he could leave while still being polite.

…

"Were you really going to leave without even saying hi?"

Percy froze by the apparition point. He turned around slowly to see Oliver watching him with a tilted head and a curious expression.

"You… you're wearing your house tie," Percy blurted out. "Why are you wearing your house tie?"

Oliver blushed, his cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink. "I thought it might bring back pleasant memories for you."

"Oliver, I—"

"I miss you. I still love you and I'm done waiting for you to get the courage to come back to me and admit that you made a mistake, so… here I am. Asking you if you're ready to come _home,_ Percy?"

Percy took a tentative step forward.

"I… you shouldn't," he whispered. "I hurt you. I hurt everyone. I messed up, and… I don't deserve you, Oliver."

Oliver sighed. "You always were harder on yourself than anyone else could be. Maybe it's not about deserving, Percy. Maybe it's about knowing what makes you happy and reaching out and holding on for all your worth. It's been ten years. Don't make me wait another ten."

Percy's lips tilted up in a smile. "Reaching out and holding on, huh?" he asked, holding his hand out.

Oliver took it immediately.

"And never letting go," Oliver whispered stepping forwards.

"I'm sorry," Percy whispered against Oliver's lips.

"I love you," Oliver returned, before he pressed their lips together.

Oliver had been right, Percy thought abstractly. This was _home._

* * *

 **Written for;**

Cheese Board; Wine; Riesling - OliverPercy

Pop Figure - Steve Rogers - 1. Stubborn / 2. Protego / 3. House Tie / 4. Long lost love.

365\. 16. Decade

1000\. 71. Percy Weasley


	49. HarryGinny IV

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 994**

* * *

 **He Had Hope**

* * *

"Did you tell everyone? That was supposed to be a secret!" Harry hissed at Hermione, glaring between her and the two unspeakables.

"You said I could look for answers!" she replied, looking hurt.

Harry immediately felt bad, because he knew she was only trying to look out for him, and he softened his gaze.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just… this isn't something I want to get out, that's all."

"We are rather known for our discretion, Mr Potter," one of the unspeakables assured him. "And we believe we have an answer for you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

The unspeakable nodded, leading both Harry and Hermione into a small room off the corridor. The other unspeakable followed, closing the door with a quick click behind them.

"You're the first and only known human to own and join the Deathly Hallows," the unspeakable said. "We have no way of knowing the end result of that, but we believe it's the cause for your…" he gestured a hand to Harry's face.

"Still looking twenty when you're actually forty five," Hermione filled in with a playful huff.

Harry rolled his eyes at her, fiddling with the arm of his glasses. This… wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Is there a way to fix it? Like, if I destroy them or —"

"You cannot destroy them, and if you attempt to give them away, they will find their way back to you. You are the true Master of Death, in a way that nobody else has ever been. We believe that could manifest itself in an inability to die, as it were."

"You mean… I'm immortal?" Harry asked, swallowing hard with disbelief.

He was surprised. Sure, he'd found his apparent non-ageing to be weird, but he'd always been weird and he'd chalked it up to that, expecting something easily remedied. This was beyond all of his expectations.

The unspeakable gave him a sympathetic look. "We suspect so."

…

"Harry, you can't keep doing this!" Ginny shouted. "I know what the unspeakables said, but they could be wrong! You're going to provoke the wrong person one day and then where will you be?"

"Still alive," Harry muttered sullenly.

The worst part of this repeated argument was that he knew she was right. He was being reckless, putting other people in danger when he threw himself headlong into it, because as Auror's, they worked as a team.

Except… he had to sit by and watch people his own age gain wrinkles and speckles of grey around their temples, all the while retaining the youth he'd apparently always have.

"I know you're struggling with the not ageing, Harry, but please, just stop this," Ginny begged quietly. "If they're wrong… I don't want to lose you."

Harry tugged her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple, apologising quietly. He understood what she was saying, but that was the issue. He knew, as sure as he knew anything, that he was going to have to watch her die one day. He was going to watch his children die.

He was going to lose everything, and not be able to do a damn thing about it.

…

Ron was first.

Tears fell silently down Harry's face as he held Hermione up with one arm and Ginny with the other.

…

Hermione followed her husband, and Ginny not even a year later.

…

Albus was the first to die of his children, and the pain was like nothing Harry had ever felt before. That he knew he'd have to feel it twice more was unimaginable.

…

The florist smiled at him. "This is a lot of flowers."

He nodded sadly and paid for them silently, leaving the shop with his arms weighted down.

He left flowers every week, using a different florist every time. He placed a bundle on every gravestone, saving the biggest and prettiest for Ginny, the love of his life.

When she'd been dying, she'd told him it was okay to love again. He'd silently disagreed with her then and he still disagreed with her now.

She'd been his one.

His only.

…

Harry watched Minister's come and go. He saw new laws get passed and others fail. He watched his grandchildren and even their grandchildren grow up and get married and have children of their own.

He watched it all from the edges, terrified to get too close because he didn't think he could cope with any more loss.

He'd already lost everything, he couldn't afford any more.

…

The log fire crackled cheerfully, spitting off tiny pieces of wood.

"We need you to help," the current Minister, Michael Wood begged. He was a descendent of Oliver, and Harry could see some resemblance to his friend. "We don't know what else to do."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

…

He saw off three more Dark Lords. He didn't fear death, in fact he _craved_ it, and that made Harry _dangerous._

Each of them thought they could be the ones to finally end him and he _wanted_ them to succeed. Not that he'd tell them that of course but…

Harry just wanted to be done.

…

Harry watched his name die out.

It was strange to see his last remaining descendent marry into another name. He was almost three hundred years old, so he supposed the Potter name had had a good run.

He went to the wedding under the invisibility cloak, and he smiled when he heard the "I do."

It reminded him of his own wedding, the bride's red hair taking him back to happier days.

He still had hope, that one day, he'd find a way around being the Master of Death. He had hope that one day, he'd dance with his Ginny in his arms again.

…

Harry sipped at his coffee and watched the sunrise, thankful that despite his many years alive, and the many years in front of him, some things never changed.

* * *

 **Written for;**

Amber's Attic - 1. Someone losing everything

Angel's Arcade - ST6; An Immortal

Cheese Board - Wine; Malbec - HarryGinny

DOTY ; 67. Leaving flowers on a grave

Winter - Log fire

Birthstones; Garnet - "Did you tell the world? That was supposed to be a secret!"

365; 2. Provoke

1000\. 285. HarryGinny

Herbology - Glasses / Issue / Surprised / Sunrise


	50. Pansy&Astoria

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 749**

* * *

 **Happy New Year**

* * *

"Are you okay?"

"I'm blind, not stupid," Pansy snapped, using her hand on the wall to get herself up the steps. It was a long way, and probably not the most sensible thing to do, but it was tradition and she wouldn't break it just because she no longer had the use of her eyes.

"I didn't suggest you were stupid," Astoria said softly. She touched on Pansy's arm, and gently placed Pansy's hand on her arm. "Let me help you get to the top."

Pansy wanted to tell her to piss off, but she was also tired of almost falling into the gaps the large windows caused, on the wall, so she tightened her grip on Astoria's arm and nodded her head once.

Astoria led her to the top of the Astronomy tower. "Where do you want to be?"

"The opening," Pansy requested. "Against the bars."

She felt Astoria nod, and moments later, felt the gentle touch of Astoria guiding her hands onto the bars. The cold air on her face was welcome, and Pansy stood still, just letting the cold sink into her skin.

She'd never liked the cold before, but since… she enjoyed the sensation now.

"Are the stars bright?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"There's fog everywhere," Astoria told her. "You'll probably feel the mist on your face soon, it's drawing closer."

Pansy nodded, and sighed. "You don't have to stay. I'll be able to get back by myself."

"I don't mind," Astoria replied. "I was heading up here anyway. The common room is a bit rowdy for my taste."

"You should probably get used to socialising," Pansy muttered. "What with you and Draco being betrothed."

"Pansy—"

"It's fine," Pansy said, shaking her head. "I've always loved Draco, ever since we were kids, but I'm not and never have been _in love_ with him."

Pansy heard Astoria's relieved breath.

"I didn't want anyone to be hurt, you know?" Astoria said after a minute. "Draco assured me that it was fine, but I guess I always thought you and him… well, you know?"

Pansy smiled. "That was by design. I didn't want to deal with the Pureblood boys thinking I was fair game, and Draco wasn't particularly interested in any of the girls when we were younger so he stuck by my side and let people make their own assumptions. He's a good man."

"I know," Astoria replied softly. "Better than he does, I think."

Nodding, Pansy added, "You'll have a hard time convincing him of that, but it'll be worth it, in the end."

Astoria moved up to stand beside Pansy. There was still evidence of the battle that had taken place in May, little things, but still there. The bridge still hadn't been fixed, which was probably the biggest difference.

"I can't believe it's already New Year. So much has happened this year, it's insane."

"It's insane that any of us are still alive," Pansy whispered. "I wonder sometimes, if it would have been better than this."

Astoria swallowed hard, looking at the older girl. She'd only heard stories of the bloodshed and violence of the battle, but Pansy was stuck living with the consequences for the rest of her life. She felt embarrassed that she had no idea what to say in reply to Pansy, but then, she wondered if Pansy was even expecting a reply.

"I always come up here on New Year's Eve," Pansy said suddenly. "I always stay up here until just after midnight. I didn't think I was going to be able to do it this year but… well. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for being a decent human being," Astoria muttered. "It's not like I came to your rescue or anything. I helped you up some stairs."

"You'd be surprised how many people avoid me to avoid doing even simple things like that," Pansy said. "Nobody wants to deal with the cripple."

"You're not crippled!"

"No, I'm not, you're right. You're just one of the few to realise that."

Astoria checked her watch and blinked. She hadn't realised it was so late. "A minute to go," she murmured, watching the seconds tick by. When it got to ten, she started a soft countdown, smiling when Pansy joined in.

As the clock struck midnight, Astoria leant over and pressed her lips to Pansy's cheek. "Happy New Year, Pansy."

The older girl smiled and it made her beautiful. "Happy New Year, Astoria. And… thank you."

* * *

 **Written for;**

Assorted Appreciation; 2. Staying up until midnight.

Book Club; Sugi; Embarrassed / Rescue / "I've always loved [name]. Ever since we were kids."

Pop Figure; Hawkeye - 1. Hurt/Comfort / 4. A Character losing one of their senses.

Cheese Board - Meat; Chorizo - Astronomy Tower

Birthstone - Bloodstone; "I can't believe it's already New Year. So much has happened this year."

Flower; Camellia - Pansy Parkinson

Element - Mist

Slytherin - Pansy Parkinson

365\. 3. Bloodshed

1000\. 460. Fog


End file.
